Streetwise

by Roberta Kray

  Chris Street turned his head and smiled at her. ‘Are you saying you don’t want the job?’

  ‘Are you saying that you’re offering it to me?’

  Ava never got the chance to hear his answer. The traffic lights at the junction were on green and as she sailed through them, indicating right and then right again before turning the Kia into the almost empty car park of the Fox, the headlamps illuminated the figure of a man loitering by the cellar door at the side of the pub. Chris didn’t need to say anything for her to know that it was Terry Street. As soon as she stopped the car, he leapt out and rushed across to him.

  Ava stayed where she was, not sure what to do, but not wanting to intrude. She thought about going into the pub and seeing Tasha but decided against it. Instead, she kept the engine running and peered through the windscreen as the two men talked. A few flurries of snow drifted down from the sky, gathering briefly on the glass before melting away. She remembered Terry from when she was a kid but hadn’t seen him since she’d come back to Kellston. He was older now, of course, a lot older. What she remembered most were the brutal scars on his throat from where he’d been shot and the hoarse, slightly strangulated sound of his voice.

  It was another five minutes before Chris led his father to the car. He opened the back door and gently propelled him inside. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Time to go.’

  Terry settled himself into the back, waited until Chris had climbed into the passenger seat and then sat forward. ‘I thought you wanted to buy the bloody place.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘So how are you going to do that without talking to Joe?’

  Chris snapped his seat belt across his chest before glancing over his shoulder. ‘There’s no rush,’ he said. ‘He ain’t going anywhere. We can talk to him tomorrow.’

  Ava looked at Chris. ‘Home?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Quick as you can.’

  Ava turned the car around and set off for Walpole Close. As she drove, she was aware of Terry lurking by her left shoulder. He was leaning so far forward, he was almost breathing down her neck. He wasn’t drunk, or at least she didn’t think so. There was a faint whiff of whisky, but nothing overwhelming. And he had walked quite steadily across the car park.

  ‘So which one are you, then?’ he said.

  Ava glanced at him. ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘You’re one of Tommy Quinn’s girls, ain’t you? Debs, is it, or are you Karen? You two always looked so alike, I never could tell the difference.’

  Chris twisted around to stare at him. ‘This is Ava,’ he said. ‘She ain’t one of Tommy’s daughters. How could she be? That was years ago. They must be… shit, they must be in their fifties by now.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Ava said.

  ‘Ava Gold,’ Chris said. ‘She’s Ted Gold’s niece. You remember Ted, don’t you?’

  There was silence from the back seat.

  ‘He used to run the car lot down by the station.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ Terry asked.

  ‘We’re going home, Dad. We’re going to Walpole Close.’

  Terry gave a sigh, sat back and stared out of the window.

  Ava could feel the frustration leaking from Chris Street. He sat beside her, tense and agitated. She noticed him reach into his pocket for his cigarettes and then withdraw his hand, realising that he wasn’t in his own car. ‘You can smoke if you want,’ she said.

  Chris shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  Ava wanted to say something reassuring, but nothing came to mind. It wouldn’t get any better; she knew that from personal experience. Her granddad on her mother’s side had been the same, deteriorating week by week, month by month, a gradual drifting away from the core of himself until the person he had been had completely disappeared. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked softly.

  Chris’s mouth twisted a little. ‘He’s fine. He’s just had a skinful. He’ll be all right in the morning.’

  Ava stopped in front of the wrought-iron gates, opened the window and pressed the remote. Did he believe what he was saying or did he just want to believe it? As the gates swung smoothly back, she drove the Kia carefully up the drive and pulled up outside the front door.

  ‘Thanks,’ Chris asked. ‘You want to come in, grab a coffee?’

  Ava couldn’t tell from his tone whether he was being polite or whether he actually wanted the company. ‘Best not,’ she said. ‘It’s getting late. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘Ta, love,’ Terry said as he got out of the car. ‘Give my best to your mum.’

  ‘Will do,’ Ava said. She gave a wry smile as she turned the car around and retreated back down the drive. She could imagine her mother’s horror if she passed on Terry Street’s best wishes – but, of course, she wouldn’t. His regards hadn’t been meant for her, but another woman entirely.

  14

  After she’d turned back into the close, Ava stopped again and got out her phone. She gave Tash a call at the Fox, told her that Terry Street was safely home and offered her a lift. ‘I’m only down the road. I’ll be passing in five minutes.’

  The night sky was a deep purplish-grey and the snow was starting to fall faster. It clung to the rooftops and the pavements and the bonnets of parked cars. By the morning, if this continued, conditions would be icy and the traffic would be dire. She hoped that Chris wasn’t planning on making any long-distance journeys. The Mercedes would handle the conditions just fine; it was other cars – and other drivers – that posed the greater danger. She still wasn’t sure if she’d actually secured the job or not and didn’t want to scupper her chances through some minor accident.

  Ava released a long low sigh. She knew it was selfish to be thinking about herself, especially after what she’d witnessed tonight, but she couldn’t help being worried about her own future too. All she wanted was a bit of stability, a steady job and the means to get back on her own two feet. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it? The trouble was that she’d lost her confidence somewhere along the road; it had, she suspected, been neatly filed away with the divorce papers.

  Thinking about Alec was a big mistake. Quickly, she pushed him out of her mind. That was history. It was over and done with, finished. But was it ever that easy? She thought about Terry Street, thrust back into a past that no longer existed and from where there was no escape. Surrounded by ghosts, he would gradually lose touch with the present, with his own children, and finally with his very essence. She had watched her granddad go through the same slow painful process.

  Ava felt a dull depression settling over her. If she wasn’t careful it would gather, like the snow, numbing all her senses. She tried to think of other things, good things, like her mum and dad, Jason and Tash. She drummed her fingertips impatiently on the steering wheel, eager now to get to the Fox and have the distraction of another person’s voice.

  The pub was closed by the time she got there, the last customers gone and the lights turned off. Tash was waiting by the main entrance, huddled under an umbrella.

  ‘God, you’re a life saver,’ she said as she hurried over and climbed into the passenger seat. ‘I didn’t fancy walking home in this.’ She dropped the wet umbrella by her feet and pulled on her seat belt. ‘Oh, and Maggie says thank you too. She didn’t want to chuck him out, not when he was in that state.’

  ‘He was in the car park when we got here,’ Ava said, pulling away from the kerb again.

  ‘Yeah, he kept going in and out all evening, hanging round the cellar door.’

  ‘Was he drinking? I mean, was he drinking a lot?’

  Tash shook her head. ‘No, he bought a few whiskies, three or four, but that’s not much for Terry. Mind, I don’t know how much he’d had before he turned up. He didn’t seem drunk, though.’

  ‘No, I didn’t think so either.’

  Tash gave a shudder. ‘It’s spooky, though, the way he kept going back to the cellar.’

  ‘Spooky?’ With the traffic lights on green, Ava passed straight
through and on to the high street. ‘Why spooky?’

  ‘Well, you know, after what happened there.’

  Ava glanced at her. ‘No, I don’t know. I don’t have a clue.’

  Tash shifted in her seat, eager to tell the story. When it came to rumour and gossip, she was up there with Jimmy Gold. ‘Well, that’s where Joe Quinn was murdered, wasn’t it? Battered to death with a baseball bat. By his own son too. Right there by that cellar door.’

  Ava’s eyebrows shifted up a notch. ‘Really?’ Although she was aware that the gangster had been killed at the Fox, she’d had no idea of the exact location. In fact, her knowledge of the Quinn family was decidedly slight. She knew that they had once been a major force in the East End, almost as powerful as the Krays, but that was about as far as it went. She would probably have learned more if her mother hadn’t taken her away from Kellston at such an early age.

  ‘Joe was a right nasty bastard by all accounts,’ Tash continued. ‘He used to own the Fox and Terry worked for him. Not in the pub, he wasn’t a barman or anything… more on the other side of things, collecting extortion money, putting the screws on, that kind of stuff. Course, Terry was only young then – we’re talking forty-odd years ago – but everyone could see that he was going places.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’ Ava asked.

  ‘Maggie told me.’

  ‘Ah.’ Maggie McConnell, the current landlady of the Fox, was a small, slim lady, a widow in her late fifties. Despite her size, she was a real tough cookie. Everyone was welcome in her pub – including the cops, the villains and the local toms – so long as they abided by her rules. Anyone caught soliciting, thieving, fighting or dealing would be out on their ear with no second chances. ‘So was Tommy Quinn the son?’ Ava asked, remembering Terry’s earlier mistake when he’d thought she was one of Tommy’s daughters.

  Tash gave a nod. ‘One of them, but not the one who killed him. That was the older brother, Connor. Tommy still got sent down though, for helping to dispose of the body.’

  Ava turned the car into Violet Road and slowed down until she found a parking slot. The Kia, fortunately, was of a size to fit into spaces other cars couldn’t manage. She switched off the engine and looked at Tash. ‘Well, I suppose that’s why Terry was there then. If Joe was his old boss and that’s where he died —’

  ‘Except that’s not the whole story,’ Tash interrupted. She lowered her voice as though someone might be trying to eavesdrop from the back seat. ‘Connor and Tommy always swore that they were innocent, and some people reckon they were set up. In the end it was Terry who profited most from Joe’s death – he got to take over the firm, control the money and buy the pub at a knockdown price. If you’re asking who had most to gain, Terry comes right at the top of the list.’

  Ava slipped off her seat belt. ‘Yeah, but the East End’s full of rumours – rumours and conspiracy theories. Doesn’t mean any of its true.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean it isn’t, either. Maybe Terry’s got a guilty conscience.’

  From what Ava knew about Terry Street, she didn’t think he had much of a conscience at all. You couldn’t afford finer feelings if you were going to be a gangland boss. But then again, the past could come back to haunt anybody. She gazed out through the windscreen for a few seconds, watching the snow come tumbling down. She recalled what her dad had said about the murder of Lizzie Street. If a man could have his own wife murdered, he was probably capable of anything. ‘Does Maggie think he did it?’

  Tash gave a dismissive flap of her hand. ‘Oh, you know Maggie. She likes a good gossip but she’s always careful not to say too much.’

  Ava thought about the landlady of the Fox as they got out of the car. Maggie McConnell, even though she was a few years older than her father, would make the perfect partner for him. She was an attractive woman of strong character and independent means, the kind of lady who might be able to whip him into shape. It was supposed to be parents who worried about their kids, but in Ava’s case – well, with her dad at least – it was usually the other way round.

  Tash put up her brolly and the two of them tried to shelter under it as they hurried towards home, crossing over the main street to an empty Market Road and then into the square. They were both quiet for a while. A thin layer of snow scrunched beneath their feet, the only noise other than the muffled sound of an occasional car travelling along the high street. Ava’s thoughts had returned to Terry Street, but Tash’s had taken a completely different direction.

  ‘So what did you think of Lydia?’

  It took Ava a second to place the name. With everything that had happened this evening, she had almost forgotten the events of the afternoon. But of course, Lydia was the girl who worked at Beast, the pretty one who had showed her the Rogue’s Gallery. ‘Yeah, she seems nice enough.’

  ‘She is, isn’t she? I thought I might invite her round one night.’

  They were almost at the flat and Ava took her hands out of her pockets, feeling the cold bite into her fingers as she scrabbled in her bag for the door key. ‘And are you going to tell Hannah?’

  ‘Tell her what?’

  They jogged up the steps and Ava unlocked the door and flicked on the hall light. ‘You know what. She won’t be best pleased if she finds out you’ve been entertaining attractive women behind her back.’

  Tash closed the door behind them. ‘It’s not like that,’ she protested. ‘Lydia hasn’t lived here for long. She doesn’t know many people. I’m just being friendly.’

  Ava grinned at her. Tash was the biggest flirt she’d ever come across, man or woman. ‘Ah, friendly. Right, I get it.’

  Tash grinned back at her. ‘Anyway, what Hannah doesn’t know, Hannah won’t grieve over. I mean, it’s not as though you’re about to tell her, is it?’

  ‘Ugh, don’t involve me in this. I’ve seen Hannah when she’s angry and she scares me half to death.’

  ‘You just need to know how to handle her, babe.’

  As they climbed up the flight of stairs, Ava glanced over her shoulder. ‘Anyway, is Lydia even… you know, that way inclined.’ Her female gaydar was rubbish; unless a woman was wearing Doc Martens and dungarees with a gay rights badge pinned to her chest, she had no idea whether she was lesbian or not.

  Tash laughed. ‘Who knows – inclinations come and go – but it could be fun finding out.’

  ‘Ah, fun,’ Ava said. ‘I can remember the days when I used to have fun.’

  ‘Men aren’t worth the trouble, hun.’ Tash gave her a mischievous nudge. ‘Maybe you should try something new.’

  Ava unlocked the door and the two of them walked in. ‘If you’re trying to convert me, you haven’t got a hope. I’m sworn off relationships, any kind of relationships, for the foreseeable future.’

  ‘That’s what you say now, but things change. You don’t know how you’re going to feel tomorrow.’

  But tomorrow wasn’t a day that Ava was looking forward to. She still had to decide whether to tell Chris Street about Wilder and Borovski. And she was sure, especially after the events of this evening, that the very last thing he needed was more bad news.

  15

  Usually Noah loved this time of day, the quiet hours after the cleaners had been in and before the bar opened for business, but this morning he couldn’t settle. He started the stocktaking and abandoned it halfway through. He polished some glasses, put them down on the counter and forgot about them. He wandered aimlessly between the two connecting rooms, checking for dust and spills although the place was immaculate with every surface gleaming.

  He knew what was bugging him, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Chris Street’s ex, Jenna, had turned up at the bar last night and Guy had been all over her. The two of them had spent the entire evening together, making it clear to everyone that they were a couple. They couldn’t have made it more obvious if they’d put a neon sign above their heads. How long before Chris Street heard the news? The East End was like one giant rumour machine, pulling in t
he gossip and churning it out. And news travelled fast with phones and texts and Facebook. It was only a matter of time before it all kicked off.

  Noah had long ago ceased to torment himself as regards Guy’s sexual adventures – he could live with the pain of short-term infidelities – but by screwing Jenna, Guy was deliberately taunting Chris Street, provoking him to the point where it was bound to end in violence. Street wasn’t the type to turn the other cheek – he would see the relationship as a personal insult – and Guy wouldn’t back down either.

  Noah returned to the bar, picked up a cloth and ran it along the shiny surface. If he could find a way to delete Guy’s past he would, but it wasn’t possible to turn back the clock. The hate and anger was ingrained and could never be wiped clean. At some point, and it might not be long, all hell was going to break loose.