by Roberta Kray
Squinting into the sun, she wondered why she was even entertaining the thought. There were far more pressing, far more serious matters to be discussed with the Reverend Colin Jacobs. Not that she ever would discuss them. How could she admit to what she’d done? She was too afraid and too ashamed.
‘What could I say?’ she murmured. ‘How could I say it?’
Her lips felt dry and she ran her tongue along them. She wondered what it would be like to be Catholic, to be able to step inside the confessional and admit to all one’s wrongdoings. But was it that easy to slough off the burden of sin? She had lived it with it for so long that it now felt like a part of her. It was wrapped around her soul, attached to her heart like some dreadful cancer.
When she reached the weeping willows, she stopped and gazed along the narrow path that led off to the older part of the cemetery. She’d had no intention of going there and yet she felt a sudden urge to do so. She had to look. She had to see for herself.
Delia set off again at a brisk pace, frequently glancing over her shoulder like a furtive burglar afraid of being seen. And yet there was no reason why she shouldn’t be going there. Maddie Layne claimed to have seen a man hanging around the graves yesterday. It was her duty, her responsibility, to make sure there were no dodgy characters skulking in the shrubbery. Not that she actually believed the girl. No, she was sure that she’d been lying.
As the path wound round and grew narrower, the long, dry grass brushed against Delia’s legs. There were wild flowers, shrubs and red admiral butterflies dancing on the buddleia. She was aware of the prettiness of the scene, but took no joy in it. For years she had deliberately stayed away from this place, not wanting to be reminded of the past. But now the past was flooding over her, a great torrent of memories that couldn’t be dammed.
Delia wrapped her arms around her chest as she tentatively approached the grave. There was no denying that Maddie Layne had done a good job. The weeds had all been cleared away, and the marble headstone was gleaming. It was, however, the deep red roses that affected her most profoundly. They were not like the ones you bought in the shops with the small tight buds that never opened properly; these were the old-fashioned type – big and blowsy and smelling of summer.
Men sent red roses as a symbol of love. Delia’s hands clenched into two tight fists. Cato. The red against the white reminded her of blood. She stared long and hard at the grave. Deep down she had always known that one day the Lucy Rivers affair would come back to haunt her. How could it not? What went around came around, and the dead were unforgiving.
8
Lena usually looked forward to her visits to Chelsea – shopping on the King’s Road and Sloane Street, followed by lunch at a fancy restaurant – but today her mood was a black one. She had more on her mind than designer clothes, Gucci handbags and Jimmy Choo shoes. It was bad enough having Cato messing with her head, but last night she’d found out that one of the girls was screwing her over too.
Driving along Chelsea Embankment, she barely glanced at the wide grey expanse of the Thames before veering left and making her way into Flood Street. Here, she pulled the MG into an empty parking bay outside the block of flats and stared up at the building. Of the six apartments inside, Lena owned three of them and rented the other three. She had learned from experience that when you were running a business like hers, it was sensible not to have any immediate neighbours.
Lena had other apartments scattered across London, but these were her favourite. Set in the heart of Chelsea, they were close to the money – and the money was big in South Kensington. The streets here truly were paved with gold; the place was swimming in blue bloods and millionaires. But even this thought didn’t lift her spirits. She couldn’t stand being taken for a fool, and Louise Cole was doing just that. Well, the stupid bitch had made a big mistake – and she was damn well going to pay for it.
Lena got out of the car, slammed the door shut and locked it. She walked over to the entrance of the block and used her key to get in. Before she had even raised a hand to knock, the door to Flat 1 flew open and a smiling Maureen Dodds beckoned her across the threshold.
‘Lena! Come on in, love, and sit yourself down. Hot out there, ain’t it? How are you doing? I’ve been watching out for you. There’s a brew on the go. You’ll have a cup, won’t you?’
‘Ta – I could do with one.’ Lena followed her through to the living room, sat down on the cream sofa and crossed her legs. This flat was the smallest of the six, but it was, as always, neat as a pin. Maureen was perfectly turned out too, dressed in a dusky-pink summer suit and kitten heels.
‘I won’t be a minute,’ Maureen said. ‘You just make yourself comfy.’
Lena lit a cigarette – there was no problem with smoking here – and then leaned across the coffee table and pulled the ashtray closer. She looked through the arch to where Maureen was pouring out the tea in the kitchen. It was hard to believe that this was the same woman she’d employed three years ago. Back then, Maureen had been knocking on fifty-five, eking out a living by working as a cleaner at the Fox and turning the odd trick in Albert Road whenever she could find a punter drunk enough or desperate enough to pay for the pleasure.
It had been a risk taking her on as a housekeeper, but the gamble had paid off. Yes, it had been a smart decision. By dragging her out of the gutter, Lena had gained her eternal loyalty.
Maureen not only ensured all the flats were immaculately clean, but also kept an eye on the girls. There wasn’t anything that happened in this block that she didn’t know about.
Maureen Dodds had, somewhat surprisingly, taken to Chelsea like a duck to water. Gone was the greasy, greying hair, replaced by soft blonde waves. Gone too were the cheap, tarty clothes. Now, as long as she didn’t open her mouth, she could easily pass for a local. The old tom had embraced respectability, even if it was only on the surface.
‘Ta,’ said Lena, as her tea was delivered in a flowery china cup. She added a spoonful of sugar, stirred, took a sip and put the cup down again. Now it was time to get down to business. ‘So, it’s true, is it? That bloody Louise is fucking me over?’
Maureen gave a nod. ‘It looks that way. Todd Greening? You remember him? He was here three times last week: Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. I checked the appointment book and he wasn’t in it. He showed up again last night and stayed for a couple of hours.’
Lena gave a snort. Greening was an ageing musician, the type who was rarely out of the gossip columns. He was a regular customer and had been using her girls for years. His career, however, was on the wane, which meant that his bank account would inevitably be waning too. If Louise had suggested cutting out the middle man, he’d have jumped at the opportunity of saving a few bob.
Maureen lifted a hand and gave her blonde waves a pat. ‘I’d have told you sooner, love, but I wanted to be sure.’
Lena took a deep drag on her cigarette and expelled the smoke in a long, thin stream. ‘So the little bitch is moonlighting.’ It was an occupational hazard in this business, but it still made her angry, especially when her terms were more than fair. She took sixty per cent of the client’s fee, but in return her girls got a decent place to live, regular health checks and the kind of customers who were carefully vetted and were never going to beat the shit out of them. Plus, they got to keep any tips that came their way.
‘You want to see?’
Lena followed Maureen’s gaze towards the computer screen in the corner. There were hidden cameras in the foyer and on both of the landings, providing constant coverage of everyone who came and went. She knew, though, that Maureen wouldn’t have called her if she hadn’t been certain. ‘That’s okay. I’ll take your word for it.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘The only thing I can do. Get shot of the cheating cow. She can’t carry on working here, not after this. If the other girls think she’s got away with it, they’ll all be at it.’
‘Shame,’ Maureen said. ‘I know what you mean, bu
t she’s a looker and she’s popular.’
But Lena had learned that there was no point in second chances. Once a girl had gone behind your back, she could never be trusted again. She stubbed her fag out, angrily twisting the butt in the ashtray and then rose to her feet. ‘There’s plenty more where she came from.’
‘You off upstairs?’
‘May as well get it over with. I take it she’s in?’
‘Yeah, she’s in. Do you want me to come with you?’
‘No, I’ll deal with this myself. Thanks for the brew.’ Lena glanced at her watch. ‘Look, I have to be somewhere at twelve, so after this is done with, I’m not going to hang about. I’ll give you a bell later, yeah?’
Maureen showed her to the door and, as Lena was leaving, placed a hand on her arm. ‘You sure you’re all right, love?’
‘No, I’m not all right. I’m being taken for a bloody ride.’
‘Apart from that,’ Maureen said. ‘Come on, you’ve dealt with far worse than this before. Sure you ain’t got something else bothering you?’
Lena thought of Cato and Lucy Rivers and the grave in Kellston Cemetery. She had a fleeting impression of Jay standing in the dock, his dark eyes boring into her, and felt a tightening in her chest, a sudden breathlessness. Her hand fluttered involuntarily to her breast and she quickly forced it back to her side again. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘It’s just been one of those weeks.’
‘Well, you know where I am if you want to talk.’
‘Of course,’ Lena said. She had, however, no intention of confiding in her. She might trust Maureen to take care of the girls, to be her spy in the House of Love, but she wasn’t about to spill her secrets. A problem shared was a problem halved? Not in Lena’s experience. It was her considered opinion that the more people knew about you, the more dangerous they became. ‘I’ll call you, hon. You take care, huh?’
‘You too.’
Lena turned and headed for the staircase. She wasn’t going to take the lift in case Louise heard it coming. With this kind of confrontation, it was always better to have the advantage of surprise. As she climbed up to the second floor, she tried to focus on what she would say to the treacherous bitch. She always took it personally when one of the girls betrayed her. It was an insult, a stab in the back, and the quicker it was sorted, the happier she’d be.
Although she tried to concentrate on Louise, her thoughts kept wandering. Cato was there like a shadow she couldn’t shake off, glued to her heels, dark and heavy, sticky as treacle. For the last ten years she’d been able to sleep soundly, knowing that he was locked up, that he was safely behind bars, but now her dreams were not so peaceful.
‘Fuck you,’ she murmured, as her hand gripped the banister. ‘I won’t let you do this to me.’
On reaching the second landing, Lena took a moment to gather herself. She was never afraid to speak her mind, to take action when it was needed, but she resented even having to be here. As if she didn’t have enough to deal with! She walked along the corridor and knocked lightly on the door. It was another thirty seconds before it was answered.
Louise Cole had the look of someone who has just been woken up. Wearing a silk ivory robe, her long black hair was mussed, and her wide brown eyes were full of sleep. Even in this tousled state, however, she remained an extremely striking woman: young and slim with curves in all the right places.
An expression of alarm passed over Louise’s face. ‘Mrs Gissing. What… what are you doing here?’
‘I just dropped by for a chat.’
‘A chat?’
‘Yes, you know,’ said Lena, ‘one of those exchanges where I say something and then you say something back. It’s quite simple once you get the hang of it. Aren’t you going to invite me in?’
Louise was still holding on to the door. She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Er… it’s not very… I had a friend round last night and I haven’t had time to tidy up.’
‘I’m not here to check on the level of cleanliness.’
Louise stood her ground. Her voice was cool and slightly dismissive, her cut-glass accent an echo of a thousand other Chelsea girls who believed in their utter and absolute superiority. ‘Perhaps, if you don’t mind, you could come back later?’
‘I do bloody mind,’ Lena snarled. And before Louise knew what was happening, she had pushed her way into the flat and was gazing with disgust around the living room. The place was a tip, with discarded clothes lying on the sofa. Three empty wine bottles, a couple of dirty glasses, used plates, a cardboard pizza box and an overflowing ashtray were on the coffee table. Mixed in with the debris was the telltale residue of white powder.
Louise sighed and shut the door. ‘What is it, then? What’s the problem?’
‘Who said there was a problem?’
‘Well, you don’t usually… I mean, I haven’t seen you in ages.’
Lena glanced at the sofa and decided not to sit down. ‘It’ll be nice to have a catch-up, then, won’t it?’
Louise didn’t seem overjoyed at the prospect. She pushed her hair back from her face and wrinkled her nose. Finally, remembering her manners, she asked, ‘You want a coffee or something?’
‘No,’ Lena said. ‘What I want to know is why you’ve been seeing Todd Greening and it hasn’t been going through the books.’
Louise assumed an expression of mock surprise. ‘What? I haven’t. I didn’t. I don’t know what —’
‘He’s been here. I know he has.’
Louise faltered for a second but quickly recovered. She made a tsk sound in the back of her throat. ‘Oh, I get it. It’s her, isn’t it? That old cow downstairs. Well, whatever she’s been saying, it’s a heap of bullshit. She’s just jealous of me. She’s out to make trouble. And it’s not my fault – I’ve tried my best to be nice, but she hasn’t liked me since the day I moved in.’
Lena gave a small shake of her head. ‘Don’t lie to me, love. I don’t like being lied to. I know that he’s been here.’
‘I’m not lying.’ Louise put her hands on her shapely hips and stared Lena straight in the eye. ‘I didn’t say he hadn’t been here. What I mean is that I haven’t been seeing him as a client. He calls by sometimes, that’s all. He’s lonely and pathetic, surrounded by hangers-on who don’t give a damn about him. Sometimes he drops in for a coffee. Am I supposed to charge him for that?’
‘You know the rules,’ said Lena sharply. ‘Unless they’re paying, you don’t see them at all.’
‘But what does that achieve? He’ll just end up going to someone else. And yes, I know the rules and he knows them too. Nothing happens when he comes round, not unless he’s gone through you first.’ Her tone switched abruptly from aggressive to something more pleading. ‘I swear that’s the truth; it’s the God’s honest truth. You have to believe me. Do you really think I’d go behind your back, Mrs Gissing? I wouldn’t. I really wouldn’t. You have my word on it.’
Lena didn’t believe a word she said. She’d heard it all before. Although Louise Cole was smart – she’d been to public school and to university, and even had a brief career in the City before finally becoming an escort – she wasn’t smart enough. The words that dripped from her perfectly formed lips were about as convincing as a wasp selling honey. ‘That’s good to hear.’
Louise, thinking that she’d got away with it, allowed her mouth to slide into a wide, smug smile. ‘I knew you’d understand.’
‘Of course I understand,’ Lena replied. She took a few steps forward until she was standing right in front of her. Her mouth widened into a smile as false as the one she was looking at. She was so close now that she could even smell the stale sleep breath of the girl. Leaning forward slightly, she hissed, ‘I understand that you’re a nasty, lying, conniving little bitch who thinks she can rip me off and get away with it!’
Louise flinched. She must have sensed what was about to happen next because she tried to dodge out of the way, but she wasn’t fast enough. The hand was already flying towards her and the
hard, angry slap caught her off balance and sent her reeling. Her eyes widened and a small, startled cry flew out of her mouth. She tottered for a moment and then fell back on to the sofa.
Lena loomed over, her face full of contempt. ‘You’re finished, you stupid little bitch!’ She leaned down and slapped her again, this time with the back of her hand. The diamond ring caught the soft flesh of Louise’s mouth and ripped it open. A trickle of blood ran down her chin. ‘I want you out of here by tonight. You don’t work for me any more. Do you understand? Is that clear enough for you?’
Louise touched her mouth, saw the blood on her fingers and winced. ‘Look what you’ve done. Look what you’ve fucking done! I’ll have you for assault. I’ll call the fucking cops!’
‘You do that, babe,’ Lena scoffed. ‘I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to help, especially when they find out what you do for a living. Do you really want to go there? Do you really think they give a toss about dirty little toms like you?’
‘Then I’ll tell the press. I’ll go to the papers and blow your whole bloody business out of the water!’
Lena stood up straight and gave a thin, caustic laugh. ‘No, you won’t, not if you know what’s good for you. Don’t even think about taking me on, love, because you won’t win and you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting that you ever tried. So just do the sensible thing, huh? Get out of my flat and find some stone to crawl under. You’ll feel more at home there.’
Louise glared up at her. ‘You’ll pay for this. I’ll make sure you bloody do!’
‘I want you out by midnight. And I expect to find this place exactly as it was when you moved in. Anything missing, anything damaged and I’ll make you pay for it. Do we understand each other?’
Louise opened her mouth, thought better of it and quickly closed it again.
‘Good,’ Lena said. ‘And if I hear any rumours, even a whisper that you’ve been talking, I’ll come looking for you. And I’ll find you, hon. There won’t be any place, not a place on earth that you can hide. I’ll find you and I’ll slice that pretty little face into shreds.’
