by Emmy Ellis
“Admirable. I like transparency, and no one could accuse you of not being honest. Right…” Cardigan put Greg’s money back in the cash box. “Nice to have done business with you. I’ll be in contact.”
He moved to the window and watched The Brothers leave his office and swagger to their van. He waited until they’d driven out of sight and turned to Sam. “That Greg’s going soft. We’d better watch him. I don’t want any cockups where my needs are concerned. On the other hand, George is getting worse. Best we keep him for the really big jobs in future.”
“Greg won’t do the overly nasty jobs, Ron. And the two always work together. You can’t hire one without the other.”
“George likes his money, my friend. We’ll use them for frightening Pembrooke’s potential customers, make Greg think he’s off the hook on the big jobs. George’ll get bored then and jump at the chance to have a killing. I tell you, there’ll be a war now Rook’s been sorted, so we’ll have to keep our wits about us and have those twins on hand.”
“Right, guv.”
Chapter Seventeen
Rebecca laughed loud and hearty as she read the announcement page of the local paper. Leona Cardigan, married. Who on earth this Jonathan Pembrooke was, to have married such a sour old cow, she didn’t know, but she found it amusing all the same. She’d have to make it her business to find out who the poor man was and give him her condolences. He was probably as ugly as Leona.
The one thing I hadn’t wanted to happen to Leona—marriage. Damn it.
Something else would have to be done to ensure Leona’s downfall, and Rebecca intended to make it happen.
She poured a cup of tea from her white china pot with its hand-painted pink flowers, then stirred in some sugar using a solid silver spoon, creating a small eddy on the surface. She looked down into the swirling liquid and pictured all sorts of hideous things that could happen to Leona Cardigan. Or Pembrooke, as she’d now be known.
Gracie entered the room, startling her out of her thoughts.
“What are we going to see at the theatre tonight?” she asked. “I didn’t quite catch what you said earlier.”
“Just a talent contest. It’ll raise money for one of the charities I help with, and I thought I’d better show my face to give them my support. Some of the acts are people I know and help.”
“Dad would have been impressed at what you do.” Gracie smiled.
“Yes, he would.” Rebecca had devoted most of her time to helping others, having been shown the other side of the coin by William. She took a moment to compose herself. “I’ve never told you this before, but it’s me who owns the shelter. I’ve put a lot of money into it already, so now it’s down to fund-raising, unless we hit rock bottom, that is. I’ll put some more of my own money in then.”
“Why didn’t you ever say?”
“Because this way, nobody knows, and just think, if the people who use the shelter know I own it and feed them every day, they won’t feel as free as they do to talk to me. Go and get ready.”
Chapter Eighteen
Jonathan and Sonny walked towards that night’s venue.
“I never thought it’d be this easy to get out and about after marrying Leona. I thought she’d keep me on a tight rein, but it seems she doesn’t mind me going to the boozer, or anywhere else for that matter.”
“Of course she doesn’t mind you going to your old local,” Sonny said. “It’s owned by her father, you daft sod. Anything you do’ll be reported back, so she hasn’t got anything to worry about, has she?”
“I wish she did have something to worry about. This celibacy lark is killing me—not that I’d do it with her if we were the last people on earth.” Jonathan laughed, even though the lack of having a bird tormented him.
Arriving at the theatre, they entered the building.
“Be serious now, Sonny. We’re here for a bleedin’ good cause. Leona went on and on at me to come, and because she’s got such a bad cold, she couldn’t make it. Thank fuck.”
He moved forward on the red carpet and glanced at his surroundings. The foyer had burgundy walls, wood panelling halfway up from the floor in rich mahogany, and a white ceiling with gold coving. Pictures in frames lined the top half, showing who’d played at the theatre and what they’d performed in.
He stepped up to the hosts.
The eldest woman said, “I hope you enjoy the evening.” She held out her hand. “Rebecca Lynchwood. And you are?”
Sonny smiled. “Sonny Bates, and this is Jonathan Pembrooke.”
The woman’s eyes widened a fraction. “Jonathan Pembrooke. How nice to meet you. And you, too, Mr Bates.”
Shaking her hand, Jonathan looked up at Rebecca Lynchwood. She appeared somewhat shaken but quickly hid her feelings behind a winning smile.
She turned to her left. “This is my daughter, Gracie.”
Jonathan’s world was turned upside down. Heart hammering, he was at a loss for words. Seconds passed, and he managed to stammer, “How d’you do, Miss Lynchwood.”
“Call me Gracie, please. And I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”
Jonathan glanced from Gracie to Rebecca, who seemed pleased with herself. He returned his gaze to Gracie. She was beautiful and everything he wanted in a woman. He was helpless, realising the enormity of what his life had become, trapped in a marriage with a wife he didn’t love, unable to do anything about it.
A queue had formed behind Sonny and Jonathan.
Rebecca said, “I hope you don’t think me rude but, Jonathan, would you mind if I nipped to the ladies’ room? Would you take my place with Gracie until I came back?”
Mind? Nah, he didn’t mind.
Sonny smiled. “I’ll go and find our seats, mate.”
Jonathan nodded, and Rebecca disappeared, leaving him alone with Gracie to greet the straggle of people who remained in the queue.
Chapter Nineteen
Rebecca all but skipped to the toilets. Elated she’d found the best way possible at getting back at Leona Cardigan, she laughed and rubbed her hands together.
A question screeched through her mind: What’s a man like him doing married to an old hag of a wretch like Leona? A puzzle, she had to admit, but one she’d solve, given time. Surely he’d been drunk when he’d proposed.
Rebecca shook her head. Her questions would have to remain unanswered for the time being. There was no way she was going to let this opportunity slip by. This was the moment she’d been waiting to happen for many a long year. Praying for.
I’m going to hurt you so badly, Leona.
She took a deep breath and held her head high. Was Leona supposed to have been with Jonathan this evening?
How would I have reacted to greeting that nasty bitch in the foyer?
Chapter Twenty
The theatre-goers had come and gone to their seats. Jonathan seemed shy with Gracie, although she didn’t understand why, and when he spoke, he reminded her of her dad.
“Shall I stand with you until your mum gets back?” he asked.
“I shouldn’t think she’ll be very long; she’ll want to be getting to our box.”
Mum was upon them then and looked at Jonathan. “Listen, why don’t you join us in our box? It seems such a waste to hog it all to ourselves.”
“Cheers,” he said. “I’ll go and get Sonny. Which box are you in? We’ll come up and find you.”
“Number two.” Mum smiled. “But we’ll wait for you, if you don’t mind. I wouldn’t want you to get lost.”
Jonathan disappeared into the theatre, and Mum turned to Gracie, who smiled, staring in the direction he’d gone.
“Like our Mr Pembrooke, do we?” Mum asked.
“Is it that obvious?”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Sonny, we’ve got ourselves a box to sit in.”
“Would it be with Gracie and her mum by any chance?”
“It would. Come on, they’re waiting for us in the lobby.”
“Hold your bloody horses. Thes
e seats are so cramped together my legs are stuck. There’s no rush; the show doesn’t start for another five minutes.”
“Of course there’s a bloody rush. We’re wasting time poncing about in here.”
Sonny snorted. “God, he’s finally met someone decent. I must say, if I didn’t have my missus—”
“Hands off. I saw her first.”
“But you’re a married man.” Sonny pulled at his wedged foot.
“Shut your face about that. With a bit of luck, Leona will be well off the scene by the time me and Gracie are established.”
“You’re jumping the gun a bit.” Sonny freed his legs, getting funny looks from the other seats’ occupants. “Flippin’ heck. My shoe’s come off. It’s stuck down the back of the seat in front.”
“I’m going. You can get your shoe out on your own and look like a bloody weirdo doing it. I’m going upstairs. It’s box number two.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Somehow, Sonny got his bastard shoe out. Face hot from the effort, he hopped up the sloping aisle trying to put it on. He stooped to tie the laces. Once done, he smoothed down his trousers then got going.
The dim corridor upstairs arced around in a semicircle, little lights above each door. He found it hard to get his eyes accustomed to the dark, and, racking his brains to remember which box he was supposed to be finding, he came up with number four. Not bothering to knock, as Jonathan and the Lynchwoods would be expecting him, he barged in at speed, gaze on the floor.
“Sorry it took so long, but I had to put my shoe back on. Then I couldn’t see in the dark and had to feel my way along the walls. Not missed much, have I?”
“You’ll be missing a lot more if you don’t shut up, Sonny boy. I’ll poke both your bleedin’ eyes out. Sit down if you’re staying or go and find the poor unfortunates you’re supposed to be with.”
Sonny looked up. An unmistakable wide silhouette, one that even in the darkness brooked no argument, loomed before him.
Cardigan.
What the hell’s he doing here?
Sonny edged his way out of the box, recalling all of a sudden that the one he should have gone into was number two.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sonny burst into the correct box and sat next to Jonathan, panting to get his breath back.
Jonathan leant over and whispered, “What’s up, mate? Didn’t you get your shoe out?”
Lifting both feet in the dark, Sonny said, “Yeah, see. But there’s something I’ve got to tell you.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I went in the wrong box. I barged in, and when I looked up, it wasn’t you lot sitting there, was it. I felt a right bloody plonker.”
Jonathan stifled laughter.
Sonny sniffed. “You won’t be bloody laughing when you find out who was in there, I can tell you.”
“Don’t tell me, the Duchess of Kent or someone like that.”
Sonny scrubbed a hand over his chin. “This is serious stuff, and you really ought to listen before the interval, because you don’t want to be bumping into the occupants, I’ll make a bet on it.”
“Who was it?”
“Take a deep breath… Cardigan.”
Jonathan’s heart leapt, and he felt sick. Gracie had asked him if he’d go with her to get the drinks in the interval. If he backed out now, it’d put her off him.
“Christ. D’you reckon he came to spy on me? He’ll be wondering where I am, especially as you can see our two empty seats down there plain as day. I’ll have to come clean and say we were with the hosts. I’ll tell Leona when we get home, so when he reports back to her that we weren’t even here, I can tell her what the show was all about.”
“Keep your bloody eyes peeled then, because we’re missing it.”
They watched in silence until the first half was over. The woman on the stage, in the process of bringing her act to an end, warbled out a tune. Thin and scrawny, she looked like she needed a good meal.
“That’s the young girl who did my hair, Gracie,” Rebecca said. “The one I told you about.” She got out of her seat. “I’m going to go down to get some drinks. Would you come with me, Sonny? I don’t think I can carry it all on my own.”
He jumped up.
Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief.
“Wonderful!” Rebecca took Sonny’s arm, marching him out of the box.
“That was planned, I’ll be bound,” Gracie said.
“You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not.”
Shoving away the thoughts of Leona and his more than unsatisfactory life, Jonathan told himself to act like they didn’t exist while he was with this woman. It was the only way he’d be able to keep up the charade of being single and available—the only way he’d meet Gracie again.
Leona seemed a million miles away now.
“I like you,” Gracie said.
He was a bit stunned at that. “Same here. I’d hoped we could get to know each other a bit better, but I work all the hours God sends and might not be able to see you much.” That sounded a good enough excuse.
He got his phone out, and they swapped numbers.
The door opened. Sonny and Rebecca came back in.
The lights went down again, and Sonny leant towards Jonathan. Prodding him in the ribs, he whispered, “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into. Cardigan’ll slay you alive if he ever finds out. Talking of Cardigan, he’s gone. Left with Sam and a few others. Word has it he was doing some sort of deal, something about sorting Mickey Rook once and for all if The Brothers don’t manage it. Rook hasn’t given Cardigan his money back, so he’s pissed off.”
“How d’you know that?”
“I was earwigging.”
Jonathan turned back to the stage. His shoulders sagged. Cardigan was gone, and his attention was on Mickey Rook. Jonathan had heard down The Eagle that Rook had had his leg smashed in, and someone had cut his face open with a carving knife. Blame went to Cardigan automatically. He’d made no bones about the fact he was after Rook’s blood. The grapevine thought Rook’s mates were out for revenge, and for that small mercy, Jonathan was grateful. Cardigan wouldn’t have the time to be keeping such a close eye on him. To ensure he could spend as many hours as possible with Gracie, he’d be telling Leona all about what her father was getting up to. She’d worry herself silly about that instead of questioning him every time he came home.
Another nudge to his ribs halfway through the second act came from his other side. Jonathan turned his head. Rebecca had prodded him, and she slipped him a piece of paper. He took it and put it in the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket, wondering why Gracie’s mother would be passing him notes in the darkened space of a theatre box.
* * * *
In the taxi on the way to The Eagle, Sonny was all chatter.
“Bleedin’ hell, mate. Trust you to go out for an evening only to find the best-looking woman in London. If this could have been weeks ago, you could’ve turned Cardigan down flat. Sod’s bloody law. Mind you, that wouldn’t have solved the money issue and your business going down the pan.”
Jonathan didn’t bother responding. He stared down at the white slip of paper Rebecca had given him.
Sonny looked over at him. “What’s that?”
“Will you give it a rest? I’m trying to take this in.”
Jonathan’s heart beat wildly. To understand the note, he’d had to read it again, and it had been difficult because the only light available was from the streetlamps that flickered past. The road had many bumps and potholes, and he had to steady his hand to read the jiggling paper.
Jonathan,
I don’t wish to alarm you, but I am aware you’re married to Leona Cardigan. It’s nothing Sonny said. I saw the announcement in the local paper this evening. I didn’t have time to read it when I first got it, hence me knowing about your marriage late. I’m more than happy for you to form a relationship with Gracie; however, I will tell you of my reasons when we meet again. Would it be
possible to see you so I can explain a few home truths about your wife? Give me a ring. As you can see, the phone number is at the top of the page.
Rebecca
Jonathan tried to work out the enigma that Rebecca had given him to solve. How did Rebecca know Leona? What had happened for Rebecca to allow a married man to form a relationship with her own daughter? He’d have to phone her as soon as possible. He’d to do it from The Eagle.
Sonny broke him away from his thinking.
“Take what all in? The fact that your head’s been turned by some bit of stuff? Don’t take it in, mate, just enjoy it while you can. It won’t be long before you get caught out anyway.”
“Shut it. You don’t know what you’re on about half the bleedin’ time, and if you took the hint when someone tells you they need a bit of peace and quiet, you’d get along better.”
“Sod you then. I was only trying to cheer you up.”
“I know.” Jonathan sighed. He loved Sonny, but sometimes he didn’t know when to give it a rest.
The taxi came to a halt outside The Eagle, and he leapt out of the taxi.
“I’ll pay then, shall I,” Sonny said sarcastically and handed the driver some change.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Debbie sat at the bar in The Angel with her usual Coke. She was in there early. Shirley had messaged to ask if they could have a chat before work. She wouldn’t say what it was about, stating it was better face to face.
God, was she going to jack her job in after all? That wasn’t an issue, filling her slot in the parlour, Debbie had a waiting list with several girls on it, but she’d hate to lose her friend. She brightened her nights and sometimes her days when they got together in the afternoons.
