Black Widow

by Jessie Keane

  It bothered her all through the rest of the weekend and, when Monday dawned, she was no further forward. Chris had said the cash came in on Wednesdays, which gave them about a day and a half to put the wheels in motion, and she knew that wasn’t time enough. Sometimes a job could take weeks, even months, of meticulous planning: she knew that. To go in hastily, without thinking everything through, without making precise plans, was suicide.

  Madness.

  And she was only considering it because she couldn’t face the alternative she was now thinking about. The alternative could start a gang war the like of which hadn’t been seen since Spot and Hill in the Fifties—she could hand the Carter manor and everything in it over to Redmond Delaney.

  It had crossed her mind in the dead cold hours of early morning. To save Layla, she might be forced to do that.

  But she didn’t want to. She resisted it with every iota of strength she had left. Because, if she did that, all that Max had worked for would be gone. And, besides, Redmond fucking Delaney was the reason she was going to Billy’s funeral today. He had ordered Billy’s death and she knew it. And how the fuck was she, a Carter to her bones, going to face doing business with the hated Delaneys?

  Yeah, sure it was Redmond’s fault, whispered that voice in her head. No way it was yours, right?

  She was still mulling it all over when Tony drove Dolly and her over to the church for Billy’s funeral. Mulling it over—and getting precisely bloody nowhere.

  ‘I’m glad we’ve got a chance for a private word,’ said Dolly as the Jag glided through the grey streets of the East End.

  ‘Oh?’ Annie looked at her. Dolly was looking at the back of Tony’s head. She glanced back at Annie. ‘You can say anything in front of Tony,’ Annie told her. ‘He’s sound.’

  Dolly let out a sigh. ‘Well, it’s not good news,’ she said.

  ‘Come on then, out with it.’ Annie gave the ghost of a smile. ‘I’m used to bad news by now, Doll, or ain’t you noticed?’

  ‘It’s Darren, Annie,’ said Dolly, and Annie was shocked to see tears start in Dolly’s eyes.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, her heart sinking.

  ‘He ain’t been too good for quite a while,’ said Dolly, gulping and scrabbling around in her bag for a hankie. ‘Fuck, we ain’t even got to the funeral yet and I’m blubbing already.’

  ‘I could see he wasn’t right when I first came back,’ said Annie. ‘He said he’d lost his boyfriend. Well, more than a boyfriend. He was in love with the man, and he died.’

  Dolly nodded and dabbed at her eyes. ‘That’s right. The fucker went and died and at first Darren was really upset, wouldn’t eat, went downhill…but then, time passed, and I thought, he’ll perk up soon. Only he didn’t. He kept going down and finally I persuaded him to get off to the doc’s and find out what the hell was wrong. And he did.’

  ‘You told me about the blackouts. He said he was having some tests done,’ said Annie.

  ‘Yeah, and the results came back.’

  Annie looked at her, wondering what the hell she was about to say.

  ‘Well, go on. Spit it out.’

  ‘It’s a wasting disease. Got a big long fancy name, but the specialist said in layman’s terms it’s MS. Basically he’s getting weaker and weaker and he’s going to end up in a fucking wheelchair.’

  Dolly choked on the last word and turned tear-filled blue eyes to her friend.

  ‘Oh shit, Doll.’ Annie stared at her in horror. Darren had been handed a slow, lingering death sentence.

  ‘I went to see the doc with him. Wanted to hear it for myself. We said I was his big sister and, you know what? I’ve always felt like that.’ Dolly paused and drew breath. ‘Poor bloody Darren. He’s going down and he’s not going to come back up again. The doctor said to expect serious organ damage, confusion, disability…death.’

  And now the car was pulling in through the church gates, and they had Billy’s funeral to get through.

  It was hellish, of course.

  Tony stayed in the car. Annie had sent flowers, red roses: she thought Billy would have liked that. Doll sent pink lilies. Max’s boys were there to show their respect for one of their own. Billy’s Mum was there, hugely fat and hobbling on a stick, with a man in braces and a cheap jacket and baggy trousers. One of Billy’s ‘uncles’, Annie guessed. One of the succession of men who had passed through his mum’s life.

  Because Billy was a well-known face around the Carter manor, a fair slice of the populace had turned out, despite the showery weather, to see him on his way. Annie felt guilt gnawing away at her all through the service.

  Who was she kidding?

  Redmond Delaney may have ordered Billy done, but it was her fault he’d gone that far. If she hadn’t come back here, Billy would still be alive today, walking around the Carter manor and going to Dolly’s Limehouse parlour on Delaney turf while Redmond and his mob cheerfully turned a blind eye.

  There came the awful moment when they had to file past Billy’s nearest and dearest, his mum and the uncle, no brothers, no sisters. Poor bastard. Dolly was in front, shaking Hilda Black’s hand, patting it, saying what a lovely service it had been, the vicar had done Billy proud.

  Then it was Annie’s turn.

  She clasped Hilda’s podgy hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, dry-mouthed, hating this. ‘He was a good friend to me.’

  Nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.

  Hilda went bright red and drew her head back. Then, like a snake shooting venom, she spat full in Annie’s face.

  Everyone stood frozen in shock.

  ‘You!’ she hissed. ‘If it wasn’t for you, my boy would still be alive today! I don’t know how you’ve got the fucking nerve to come here.’

  Annie recoiled in horror and disgust.

  ‘Mrs Black…’ she began, groping in her bag for a hankie to wipe Hilda’s spittle from her face.

  But Hilda was on a roll.

  ‘He was doing some jobs for you, you evil cow. He told me so. He was pleased as punch because you were back. He was always soft on you, the dopy little git. And now look where he’s ended up, look what’s happened! They dragged him through the streets and killed him, and it’s all because of you.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ whispered Annie, riven with guilt.

  Hilda was only telling the truth. But God, it hurt. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said.

  Hilda spat again, hitting her straight in the face.

  ‘Now what you gonna do about that?’ yelled Hilda in fury. ‘You gonna get me done too, like poor little Billy? Ain’t that what you people do, when you’re answered back to?’

  Annie looked along the silent line of watchers and her eye caught that of Jimmy Bond. He was standing there, and on his face was a faint look of satisfaction. The bastard. He should be rushing over here, telling Hilda what for, to watch her mouth and remember who she was talking to.

  But no.

  The fucker was pleased she was being slapped down.

  She looked at the other boys. Ugly little Jackie Tulliver, lanky, evil-eyed Gary, and squat, powerful Steve. All spruced up in their Sunday best. They looked at Jimmy, then at her, then away, shuffling their feet awkwardly.

  Annie got the message.

  The boys looked to Jimmy for leadership, not her. Jimmy was doing nothing to defend her, so neither were they. It was loud and clear. She got the hankie out and wiped her face.

  There was silence all around her. Avid faces, watching, waiting. This was Mrs Max Carter being disrespected, and no one was doing a fucking thing about it. It would be the talk of the manor within the hour.

  ‘Come on, we ought to go,’ said Dolly, looking uncomfortable as she tugged at Annie’s arm.

  Then there was movement behind Annie. Suddenly Tony was there, pushing through the crowds. He stopped at the graveside and stared at Hilda Black as if she was shit on his shoe.

  ‘You want to watch your step,’ he told her roughly, and she shrank back. ‘This
is Mrs Carter you’re talking to. You just remember that.’

  The latest ‘uncle’ standing beside Hilda Black started puffing himself up and Tony gave him a look.

  It was enough.

  The man stepped back, looking at the ground.

  Annie looked around at all the faces there. Jimmy Bond was gone. Everyone else seemed embarrassed by the scene being played out in front of them. The vicar had said his piece and was gone. Didn’t want to get involved.

  Annie stepped back. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said to Hilda Black. ‘I’m truly sorry for your loss.’

  Hilda Black looked at her with bitter loathing.

  Then Annie turned, with Dolly on one side of her and Tony on the other, and walked away.

  56

  Jimmy Bond was waiting for them back at the car, leaning against it with arms folded, looking smug.

  Annie stiffened when she saw him.

  Her right-hand man. Yeah. Very funny.

  ‘Wait for me in the car, will you Doll? You too, Tony,’ she said. She looked straight at Jimmy.

  ‘I want a word with you,’ she said.

  He pushed himself away from the car and followed as Annie walked off along the gravel pathway. It was starting to rain again, and the sky was gunmetal grey above the fresh lime-green budding on the trees around the graveyard.

  ‘Well,’ he said, falling into step beside her and pulling up his coat collar, ‘you bollocksed that up good and proper.’

  Annie shot him a glance. ‘Yeah, and thanks for your support,’ she said, her voice dripping sarcasm. ‘There was I thinking you were on my side, too.’

  Jimmy stopped walking and stared at her.

  ‘You really are bloody shot away, ain’t you?’ he remarked. ‘I told you what would happen if you started stirring things up by working Charlie over. I warned you that the shit would start to fly, but would you listen? No. And now I suppose you’re in deep shit with the Barolli clan and you want me to get you out of that pile of crap too.’

  Annie stopped walking. She stepped in and stared hard at Jimmy.

  ‘It must be marvellous to be so fucking clever, Jimmy,’ she said coolly. ‘Only you see, it ain’t your kid who’s in the hands of villains, it’s mine. My daughter, my flesh and blood. She’s all I have left now Max is gone…are you hearing me, Jimmy?’

  ‘Oh, I’ve heard you. I’ve heard a lot these past weeks and I don’t like the sound of none of it. You’re a fucking loose cannon. You’re causing trouble with the Delaneys, you’re upsetting the boys, and closing the clubs, and fuck knows what will happen to them now. You’ve gone cap in hand to the sodding Mafia—Christ knows what sort of shit-storm that’s going to set off in our direction.’

  ‘Jimmy.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just shut the fuck up, will you? I’m getting tired of listening to you whining on. All it boils down to is the fact that you don’t like me being here at all. Fact is, Jimmy, I think you wish I’d got hit too when Max and Jonjo did, and that would have solved all your problems for you.’

  Annie was breathing hard with fury and staring balefully at him. Jimmy was saying nothing.

  ‘Yeah, that’s it, isn’t it? You could have taken the manor straight over. Run the clubs into the ground and picked over the rest, grabbed all the money and lived like a lord.’ She thought with fury of the cosy set-up he already had with Jeanette, all paid for—she was sure—with the firm’s money, her money. ‘And then—oh dear—I show up. Ruined all your plans, didn’t I? It was all real sweet, then I come around and want things done my way, not yours. Well, it’s time you realized certain things, Jimmy. Time you got with it. The big news is this: I’m in charge—not you.’

  Jimmy looked at her, his face tense with anger. ‘Finished?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh no.’ Annie gave a tight, furious smile. ‘Not by a long shot. Listen up. You’ve been having a fine old time of it. Having the whole manor at your beck and call. Having Kath waiting on you at home, looking after your kids, shit-scared of you, the poor mare, and Jeanette tucked up in your love nest for a little afternoon delight on tap whenever you wanted it. You thinking all the time that what Kath don’t know won’t hurt her…But what if she did know, Jimmy? What if things got said somehow or other, and Kath suddenly started to see the light? She’s not alone any more, Jimmy. I’m here. I’d help her walk away from you. I’d pack her sodding suitcase myself. And what about the rest of the boys?’

  ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ asked Jimmy roughly, but she could see he was rattled. Kath was no loss to him but the kids were, she could see that.

  ‘What would they think of a man who beats up women, Jimmy?’ Annie paused, seemed to ponder. ‘I think I know. I think they’d say he was a yellow-bellied fucking coward, and I don’t think they’d take many orders from a man like that.’

  Jimmy’s face had flushed brick red while she talked. ‘You threatening me?’ he spluttered.

  ‘Just stating facts,’ shrugged Annie. ‘See, I don’t think Jeanette’s the maternal type, do you? Can’t see her looking after your two kids part time when Kath kicks you out. Maybe she’d let you see the kids, but I sort of doubt it. It’s a shame; I think you really love those kids too. But then, I can’t really see Jeanette playing happy families at the weekends, wiping up baby sick and playing with Jimmy Junior while you’re off down the dog track looking for another little blonde with a twinkle in her eye…I dunno, Jimmy, your whole, well-ordered world could come crashing down if someone was to say a word in the wrong place to poor old Kath.’

  ‘You want to be careful,’ said Jimmy, looming over her with rage flashing in his eyes.

  ‘Careful? Me?’ Annie gave an ironic bark of laughter. Then her face grew stony. ‘Get real, Jimmy. I’m beyond being careful. I’m hanging out over a cliff with sharks trying to snap my arse in half, or ain’t you noticed? You really think that I’d quibble about blowing the whistle on you?’

  Jimmy was breathing hard. ‘You vicious cow,’ he said flatly.

  ‘Yeah, you got that right. You remember that, Jimmy, and next time you see anyone disrespecting me, you fucking well shift yourself and do something about it.’

  Annie turned on her heel and walked back to the car. After a few paces she paused and looked back at him.

  ‘Oh yeah—and get the boys together for a meet at the Palermo tomorrow morning at eleven. Nice and discreet, no rolling up mob-handed, got it?’ she said. ‘I’ll see you there.’

  57

  ‘Basically, Vee, you’re just a fucking moron,’ Danny was saying.

  Vee sat at a different kitchen table this time, in a house that was no better and no worse than the last—in other words, a shit-heap. She was getting very, very tired of shit-heaps. And also of Danny, who did not believe in letting bygones be bygones. He was still going on about the fact that she had once—just once—left the sodding door unbolted, and the kid had tried to do a runner.

  ‘Look,’ she said suddenly, losing it. ‘She didn’t get out.’

  ‘Yeah, but if she had—’

  ‘If she had, that would be a different matter, wouldn’t it? But she didn’t. So can you please now for fuck’s sake let it drop!’

  ‘Why do I always have to work with fucking fools?’ asked Danny morosely, downing another can of beer.

  ‘Hey, don’t include me in this,’ said Phil Fibbert, who was also sitting there and who was also getting pretty damned tired of the way Danny kept carping on about ancient history, about things that nearly happened, but didn’t.

  ‘And you can shut the fuck up too,’ said Danny.

  Vita looked at Phil. Phil was built like a brick shithouse and Danny shouldn’t keep talking to him like that, or one of these fine days he might just get his teeth back in an ashtray. Right now Vita was looking forward to the day when Phil finally snapped. Phil winked at her and she half smiled back.

  Actually, she was sort of beginning to like Phil.

  Sure, they’d had their moments, but this was
a tense situation. They were all on edge. And Danny didn’t help. She wished he’d stop it with the drink. He was a tetchy bastard anyway, but when he had a few pints down his neck, he was like a bear with a sore head.

  Vita looked at Phil. She liked his dark good looks and his muscular physique. She didn’t notice that he hadn’t really defended her, he had only defended himself.

  ‘Ain’t it time you checked on the kid?’ Danny said to Vita, while eyeing them both with a critical eye.

  Vita stood up. ‘I’ll be so glad when all this is over,’ she groaned, reaching for the hood and pulling it on, tucking her blonde hair up under it. ‘You really think she’s gonna play it straight now?’

  ‘What else can she do? It’s all going good.’ Danny downed the dregs of the beer and crushed the can in his fist and grinned. Then he frowned.

  That was Danny—happy to crazy mad in a single bound. Vita had long ago got used to his sudden switches of mood.

  ‘And this time, lock the fucking door, okay?’ said Danny sharply.

  Boy, could her brother hold a grudge.

  But then—so could she.

  58

  When Annie came downstairs next morning, thinking, Oh fuck, it’s Tuesday already, a stony-faced Ross handed her a slip of paper.

  ‘What’s this?’ she asked.

  He shrugged, uninterested. ‘Chap just handed it to me. Said it was a “pizzi,” or something. For Mrs Carter.’

  Annie felt her heart thud sickly in her chest. The last unexpected delivery here had been Layla’s severed finger. She didn’t want any more surprises.

  ‘Thanks, Ross,’ she said, and took it through to the empty kitchen and spread it out on the table. It was a pizzino from Constantine, using Caesar’s code. She quickly deciphered the line of numbers. The note read: Sorry. C.

  Annie stared at it in bewilderment. She thought of their last meeting, when she had behaved like a vestal virgin being propositioned outside the temple. She groaned aloud. Christ, what a fool she’d made of herself. Turned him right off the whole idea; ruined everything. But now this. Sorry. Meaning what? Meaning that there still might be a chance he’d go ahead with it, that she could still, somehow, get Layla out of this?