by Kitty Neale
Dan sprung to his feet, leaning over his desk and so angry that spittle flew out of his mouth as he yelled, ‘Calm down! We're talking about child pornography and you expect me to calm down!’
Danny's manner became placatory. ‘Look, Garston provides what the punters want, and that includes kids. It was just a suggestion, that's all, and I must admit I hadn't thought it through. If you don't like the idea we can just forget it.’
‘Of course I don't like the fucking idea! In fact, the meeting's off.’
‘Hold on, Dad. Don't cut off your nose to spite your face. There's still a lot of money to be made from the other stuff.’
Dan fought his anger as he sat down again, but failed. All right, he was no angel, but he had standards, a code that he lived by. When the boys had suggested getting into this game, he'd been against it, but they had talked him round. He had to admit that the thought of easy money had been a big factor in his decision – that and the fact that he was getting too old for safe breaking, his hands and ears not as good as they used to be. He glared at his son. Christ, using children! Danny said he hadn't given it a lot of thought, but that was no excuse. The boy was his firstborn, he'd been proud of him, yet now it was as if he was seeing his son for the first time – and he didn't like what he saw. Maybe Danny had seen too much – maybe that was it, Dan thought, searching for excuses. Danny had a talent for photography and was involved in the technical side of making the films, but surely that wasn't responsible for turning him into a sick bastard who could suggest using innocent kids? He had to get out of there, to breathe fresh air. Pushing himself up, he growled, ‘Wait for the boys. I'll be back later.’
‘But, Dad …’
Dan didn't stay to hear the rest of Danny's words. He stormed out of the office, brushing past Bob as he headed for his car. He needed to think, to clear his head. He started the engine and drove off, not caring where he was heading.
‘What's up with Dad?’ Bob asked as he went into the office.
Danny was behind the desk now, lounging back on the chair, feet up and hands linked behind his head. ‘He didn't like one of my suggestions.’
‘What suggestion was that?’
‘He vetoed it, so there's no point in talking about it.’
‘I'd still like to know.’
‘Tough. Now bugger off. I need to think.’
Just because Danny was the eldest, he thought he could give out orders, but Bob wasn't ready to give up yet. It gave him some satisfaction to know that Danny had fallen out with their father – a rare occurrence – yet he was still curious to know why. ‘Was it to do with this new idea of yours?’
‘I don't want to talk about it. Ain't that a customer?’
Bob's lips tightened. He was only fifteen months younger than Danny and was sick of being treated like an underling. All right, he didn't have his brother's brains or looks but he wasn't an idiot. The trade counter bell rang again but he ignored it.
‘Is Dad coming back for the meeting?’
‘Yeah, I expect so.’
‘Why don't you run your idea by me? If I like it, maybe between the two of us we can talk him round.’
‘He'll do his nut if I suggest it again.’
‘Maybe, but this is a family business and we're all entitled to a vote.’ Bob watched as Danny's eyes narrowed speculatively, and hid a smirk. He would never go against his father, but Danny didn't know that. This might turn out to be the ideal opportunity to score a few brownie points with the old man.
‘All right,’ Danny said, ‘see to that customer and then I'll fill you in.’
Chapter Four
Norma Draper tutted with impatience when there was a knock on the door of number four, where she lived with her husband, Maurice. Norma fixed a smile on her face as Sue walked in with her two sons.
‘Hello, Sue, I'm surprised to see you so early. Maurice hasn't left for the yard yet,’ she added, hoping that her sister-in-law would take the hint and come back later.
‘Yeah, but the meeting starts at eleven so no doubt he'll be off soon. Do you know what it's about?’
‘I've no idea.’
‘Old face-ache said the same, and she had the cheek to pick me up about my doorstep.’
Norma smiled, knowing that ‘face-ache’ referred to their mother-in-law. She had to agree with Sue. Since the day she'd met Maurice, Joan Draper had made it obvious she disapproved of their relationship. All right, she was eight years older than Maurice, but she hadn't meant to get pregnant, despite what the woman thought. In fact, Norma was deeply ashamed and had hated giving birth to Oliver six months after their marriage. Not only that, she had lost contact with her parents in the process. They had been appalled by her pregnancy and also disapproved of the Drapers – a family they'd decided were as common as muck.
She looked at Sue and said sympathetically, ‘Don't let Joan upset you.’
‘Where's Oliver, Auntie Norma?’
‘He's in the back yard feeding his rabbit,’ she told Paul.
‘I'm going out there to see him,’ Robby said.
Norma liked Sue's youngest lad, Paul, but couldn't feel the same about Robby and tensed nervously as the two boys made for the yard. She was worried that Robby would upset Oliver and wanted to follow them, but as Maurice came downstairs she looked at him worriedly. His eyes were still thick with conjunctivitis, his face wan. Maurice wasn't robust, unlike his brothers, and she worried constantly about his health. If anyone had a cold, Maurice would catch it, then nine times out of ten it went to his chest. If stressed, he suffered with bouts of asthma, the attacks leaving him weak and exhausted. Over time she had learned how to deal with them, and thankfully how to calm him down.
‘Are you off to this meeting now?’ she asked.
‘Yes, I'd better get a move on.’
Sue plonked herself on the sofa, her tight dress riding up to reveal shapely legs. Maurice grinned as he said, ‘Hello, Sue.’
‘Watcha, Maurice. Do you know what this meeting's about?’
‘No, sorry, I don't.’
His smile was warm and Norma felt a surge of jealousy. Unlike her, Sue was pretty, vivacious, big-busted and feminine. Norma glanced at her own reflection in the mirror over the fireplace, disliking what she saw. She was plain, her features too large, with only her long, wavy, auburn hair saving her face from masculinity. She hated her body too, and wished that she had Sue's curves, but when Maurice came to her side, she dragged her eyes away from her reflection.
He dropped a kiss on her cheek, asking, ‘Where's Oliver?’
‘In the yard with Paul and Robby.’ ‘I'll pop out there to say goodbye.’ ‘He dotes on that boy,’ Sue said as soon as Maurice was out of sight.
‘Yes, I know. He's a marvellous father.’
Maurice soon appeared again. ‘I'd best get a move on. See you later, ladies.’
Sue giggled. ‘“Ladies”. Well, ain't that nice?’ she said as the door closed behind Maurice. ‘Mind you, he must know what the meeting's about.’
‘Probably, but you should know better than to ask.’
‘Yeah, that's what old face-ache said. I don't know why they have to be so secretive. We ain't stupid. We know they do jobs and we'd hardly go shouting our mouths off. It's been a long time since the last one, though – do you think they're planning another robbery?’
‘I don't know,’ Norma replied. She didn't want to get into this conversation, hating any mention of the family's less respectable sideline. Her parents thought the Drapers were common, but that was the least of it. If they'd known she was marrying into a family of thieves they'd have had heart attacks. Oh, why wouldn't Maurice listen to her? He was clever, mathematically astute and handled the business accounts. If they left the alley, and his awful family, he could get a decent job. She wanted a better life for her son, a respectable life where she could hold her head up high. Instead she was stuck here amongst this den of thieves. Maybe it wouldn't have been as bad if she could have made friends outside of the alley, but as soon a
s it became known that she was a Draper, she was avoided like the plague. Norma had dreaded Oliver going off to school, and her fears had been well founded when the other mothers made sure that their children gave him a wide berth. At first Oliver had seemed unaware of it, but had started to ask questions when he found it hard to make friends, ones she found difficult to fob off. It had helped when Ivy's elder boy started at the same school a couple of years later. Oliver had taken Ernie under his wing, but it still angered Norma that she and her son were tarred with the same brush as the rest of the Drapers.
‘Any chance of a cuppa?’ Sue asked. ‘I'm spitting feathers.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Norma replied, but as she went through to the kitchen her son came stumbling through the back door.
‘Mum! Oh, Mum,’ he sobbed. ‘He … he killed my rabbit.’
Norma pulled her son into her arms, holding him tightly. She didn't have to ask who the culprit was, only saying, ‘What did he do, love?’
‘He said Shaker could fly and launched him like an aeroplane. Shaker hit the wall and now he … he's dead.’
Norma's voice rose. ‘Sue! Sue, get in here!’
‘Gawd blimey, what's the matter?’ Sue asked, wide-eyed as she tottered on high heels into the room.
Teeth grinding with anger, Norma spat, ‘Your son has killed Oliver's rabbit.’
‘No, Robby wouldn't do that.’
‘Huh, I didn't say which son, but I see you've jumped straight to Robby's defence.’
Paul came running in the back door, face alight with excitement. ‘He's woken up, Oliver! Shaker's woken up.’
Oliver pulled himself from his mother's grasp and ran outside. Norma followed to see Robby hunkered down beside the rabbit, his eyes wide and innocent as he looked at them. ‘He's all right, Ollie,’ Robby said. ‘Oliver!’ Norma automatically corrected as she too crouched down. She hated the diminutive use of her son's name and refused to let anyone use it. Shaker was indeed alive, but lay on his side, trembling as she stroked him.
‘You shouldn't have thrown him like that,’ Oliver accused as he pushed Robby aside.
‘I didn't mean to hurt him. I thought he could fly.’
‘Don't tell lies, you nasty little boy,’ Norma snapped.
‘Hold on, Norma, there's no need to talk to Robby like that. He's only six,’ Sue protested.
‘I told him, Mummy,’ cried Paul. ‘I told him that rabbits can't fly.’
Norma looked up at Sue. ‘See, out of the mouth of babes – and your Paul's only four.’
Shaker became alert, up on all fours now, his nose twitching. ‘Look at that,’ said Sue. ‘He's all right now so I don't know what all the fuss is about.’
Norma struggled to hold her temper. Robby looked like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, but she knew what he was capable of and wasn't fooled. The boy might be only six years old, but he had a nasty, malicious streak, and Sue must be blind if she couldn't see it.
‘Put Shaker in his pen, Oliver,’ she said, ‘and you, Robby, I would prefer it if you come inside where we can keep an eye on you.’
‘Can I stay out here, Auntie Norma?’ Paul asked.
‘Of course you can.’
‘I want to stay in the yard too,’ Robby whined.
‘He didn't mean any harm, Norma. It won't be fair to drag him inside.’
Norma's lips tightened. She hated Sue's weakness, the way she pandered to the boy. ‘Every time you bring Robby to see us there's a problem. Until he learns to behave himself, he must remain where I can see him. In fact, I would rather you kept him away from my son.’
‘Sod you then,’ Sue snapped. ‘Come on, Robby, you too, Paul. We're going home and we won't bother to come round here again.’
‘But, Mummy,’ cried Paul, ‘I want to play with Oliver.’
‘Tough! Now come on,’ Sue demanded, grabbing their hands before marching off.
Norma walked inside just in time to hear her front door slam. She was used to Sue's volatile temper. They had fallen out over Robby before, but her sister-in-law had a short memory. No doubt she'd be around again in no time, but Norma just wished that she'd leave Robby behind. If the Drapers weren't so feared, Oliver could find friends outside of the alley, but as it was there was only Sue or Ivy's boys to play with. She wasn't keen on Bob's cousin, Ivy, the woman always trying to cause trouble, but she preferred her older son, Ernie, as a playmate for Oliver.
It was only a few minutes later when Oliver came in, his bony knees grubby, and a piece of hay from the rabbit's hutch stuck in his floppy fringe. Norma's eyes softened as she gently removed it. Like his father, Oliver was thin, with light brown hair, but thankfully he was a robust child. At nine years old he was Dan and Joan's first grandchild, but Joan had little time for the boy. Dan had tried to prevent her from naming him Oliver, saying it was no name for a Draper, but she had stood her ground. After all, she wasn't common like her in-laws. She came from a better family, her father an electrical store manager and their home in Wandsworth far superior to this.
Norma hung her head, thinking back to when she had met Maurice. She'd been lonely, had craved love, but she was so plain that she expected to remain a spinster. When Maurice came along he was the first man to show her any attention, but, afraid of losing him, she had stupidly let him go too far. The question arose again, one that plagued her. If she hadn't been pregnant, would she have married Maurice?
‘Can I have a glass of orange juice, please, Mummy?’
‘Of course you can, darling.’
As she poured Oliver's drink, Norma knew it was stupid to keep questioning her decision, especially when, in truth, she knew the answer. Yes, she would still have married Maurice, preferring marriage to the life of a spinster. Her two brothers had both married well, and she was the last one left at home, destined to a life of caring for her parents as they aged.
As Norma handed Oliver the juice, she smiled at her son, loving him dearly. He had become her one consolation, and though she couldn't love her husband, she liked him, liked him a lot. But, oh, if only he wasn't a Draper!
When Maurice reached the yard, he rubbed his eyes, then picked at the corners, his finger coming away covered in yellow pus. He'd have to get another prescription from the doc, but hated going to his surgery. He wasn't strong but drew comfort from knowing that his role in the family business was an important one. He kept the books, making sure that no fault could be found in the accounts, the taxes paid on time and in full. The other books, the ones that covered their sideline, were kept well away from prying eyes, but he had them on hand just in case they were needed at the meeting.
‘Morning, Bob,’ Maurice greeted. ‘I've just said goodbye to your lovely wife.’
‘What's that supposed to mean?’
‘Sue called round to see Norma and was still there when I left.’
‘Oh, right,’ Bob said, then gestured with his thumb towards the office. ‘Danny's been here a while and Chris turned up ten minutes ago.’
‘What about Dad? I can't see his car.’
‘He went off with the hump.’
‘Really, and who ruffled his feathers?’
‘He had a bit of a falling-out with Danny.’
‘Did he now? What about?’
‘Search me,’ Bob said, looking pleased as he added, ‘but they were having a right old ding-dong.’
Maurice could sense that Bob was being evasive, sure that he knew more than he was letting on. Bob was always a bit funny when it came to Danny – the rivalry plain to see – but he was wasting his time if he wanted to take Danny's place. Next to their father, Danny was the top man, the position unlikely to change. There was only one person their father favoured above Danny, and that was Petula.
‘Hello, Maurice,’ said Chris as he came out of the office. ‘The meeting might be off.’
‘Yeah, Bob told me that Dad went off with the hump. Is it worth hanging around?’
‘Search me. Danny ain't saying much, only that they had a diff
erence of opinion.’
Maurice studied his youngest brother. Chris was looking snazzy. He had run the gauntlet of fashion, changing from a teddy boy to a mod, and lately had taken to wearing Italian suits. He was a good-looking bloke, a sort of soft replica of their father, and though he didn't have an aggressive personality, he could look after himself. Chris was his favourite of all the brothers, and before he had married Sue they had knocked about together, either going down the pub, or to the local snooker hall.
‘How's your love life? Are you still seeing that girl from Chelsea?’
‘No, she was getting a bit too keen and hinting about engagement rings.’
‘So, you're footloose and fancy-free again. Do you fancy a game of snooker tonight?’
‘No can do. I've got a date tonight. I took Pet to buy a record this morning and a nice-looking bird behind the counter caught my eye.’
Maurice raised his brows, but then he shouldn't be surprised. Chris was good at pulling birds, one following another in quick succession. ‘What's she like?’
‘Tasty, but she's blonde and I prefer them dark.’
‘What's the matter with blondes?’ Bob protested. ‘My Sue's a cracker.’
‘Yeah, she is,’ Chris agreed, ‘but I still like brunettes, and ain't your Sue's hair out of a bottle?’
Bob was saved from answering when their father drove into the yard. He climbed out of his car and, judging by the look on his face, he was still in a foul mood.
‘Is everyone here?’ he snapped.
‘We're still waiting for George,’ Bob told him.
‘Shit! Well, we'll have to start without him. Lock up, Bob, and then join us in the office.’
Maurice frowned. With their father in this mood he couldn't see it being a very productive meeting. Curious to know what Danny had come up with, he silently followed his father through to the office, Bob and Chris behind him.
Danny hastily took his feet off the table and stood up. ‘The meeting still on then, Dad?’
‘Yeah, it's on, but you're skating on thin ice.’
Maurice frowned again. It was obvious that Danny had already discussed his plans with their father, but, judging by his tone, the old man didn't approve of them.
