Gangster Girl

by Dreda Say Mitchell

  She jacked backward, out of her thoughts, and squealed as an arm locked around her throat snapping her neck back.

  ‘Just give me the bag and you won’t get hurt.’ The voice was gruff, male and hot against her ear. The stench of booze hit her nostrils, choking her already panicking airways.

  She began to slip the strap of her bag from her shoulder. His body softened as he reached for it. That’s when she made her move. She arched her body forward. Smoothly shoved her right hand between their bodies. Jabbed her fingers backwards into his eyes but didn’t connect properly so he was in pain and shock rather than actually blinded. He yelped and his grip loosened on her neck. She drew her jaw back, lowered her mouth and sank her teeth into his forearm. He screamed as his arm fell away. Daisy jack-knifed away from him in a single step. She twisted around to find his fist shooting straight for her. Jumped back but wasn’t quick enough. His fist caught her on her right breast. She slumped forward in pain. His hand grabbed the bag that hung loosely from her arm. But she locked her elbow up and wouldn’t let go. With a yell she raised her fist and stepped forward with her whole weight behind her move. She caught him a stinging jab on his jaw. As he tottered backwards she raised her right leg. Pivoting on her supporting leg she dealt a powerful roundhouse kick to his side. He staggered and crumpled, limping backwards, propped against a wall, a few yards away.

  It was only then that she clocked he was wearing a balaclava. This was wrong, all wrong. She knew street thieves, they have a go and if it doesn’t work out, they run, there’ll always be someone else coming down the road minutes later. And street thieves didn’t announce their intentions through their head gear. But her friend wasn’t running anywhere. He pushed his hand into his jacket pocket where he gripped something tightly.

  ‘OK, show’s over – now give me the bag.’

  But she didn’t hear his words because she was paralysed by what was in his hand. A wicked-looking kitchen knife.

  When Ricky Smart spotted the man and woman he knew he was walking into trouble. He stopped in his tracks as he made his way to Tommy’s car, which he had parked in an underground car park. He waited in the shadows. Kept watching. Suddenly the woman took a step back. The man stepped forward. That’s when Ricky noticed two things at the same time. Number one, the man wore a balaclava. Number two, the man was brandishing a blade at the woman. Ricky tensed as he suddenly realised what he might be witnessing. A mugging? Attempted murder? Whatever it was he knew he had to make a decision what to do. Fast.

  The man lunged towards the woman making Ricky’s decision for him.

  ‘Bitch, you wanna see the sunlight shining in your life again you’d better slide that bag towards me.’

  Daisy remained transfixed by the knife. She couldn’t move. Wasn’t even sure if she was breathing. Wasn’t even sure if this was real. Then she heard her breathing, rough and raw against the air.

  ‘Now!’ he yelled, taking a threatening step towards her.

  She did what he asked her. Threw him the bag. She flicked her head up towards the man. That’s when she saw him. A powerfully built black man standing behind her attacker.

  Her attacker must have read the surprise in her eyes because he abruptly turned around. But he was too late. The man behind him let loose with a powerful chop to the side of his neck. Daisy scrambled back as her attacker staggered to the side. The newcomer flicked his right foot out in one of the best ninety-degree kicks Daisy had ever seen in her life. His kick caught the other man’s hand, blasting the knife into high heaven. Her attacker gave the knife once last look, then spun around and ran for the exit.

  The other man turned immediately to Daisy and walked towards her.

  ‘You alright?’ he asked, stretching his hand out towards her. She heard his voice for the first time. Deep, cockney, with a hint of Caribbean street style, very masculine. Friend or foe? She wasn’t taking any chances. He took another step towards her, stretching out a hand. Before she knew what she was doing she’d grabbed his outstretched hand, twisted it around, kicked him behind a knee and flipped him onto his back.

  Daisy jammed her thin, sharp heel onto his heaving chest, holding him down.

  ‘Is this how you treat all your new friends?’ Ricky asked between panting breaths, his face screwed up in pain.

  Daisy took immediate offence at his cocky manner. Despite his pain he gave her a cheeky grin that so made her want to slap his face. ‘Who are you? What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m just a guy, out for a walk. That’s not a crime is it?’

  ‘I don’t know. It might be. What sort of guy are you and what sort of walk are you on?’

  His cockiness grew. ‘It’s been eighteen months and ten days.’

  ‘What?’ she threw back, confused.

  ‘Since I was given an eyeful of what a woman hides up her skirt.’

  Daisy spluttered as she realised where his dark eyes were resting. He moved with a speed that took her by complete surprise. He grabbed her leg and flipped her onto her back. She let out a loud groan as a powerhouse of pain shot throughout her body. Before she could take her next breath he was over her. Now he was the one looking down and she looking up. She breathed harshly as she stared at him and for the first time realised that he was a looker and a half. Smooth, dark skin and flirty, take-me-to-bed-now eyes. This was a man who played hard well past midnight. They stared at each other, both breathing heavily. Then he shot out a punchy little laugh. Moved back and stood up. Daisy scrambled to her feet, groaning as pain rippled inside her.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asked.

  She glared at him. ‘Sure,’ she answered sarcastically. ‘I feel on top of the world after someone tries to mug me.’

  Ricky tilted his head, surprise creeping across his face. ‘So you think he was just trying to mug you?’

  ‘Of course. What else could it be?’

  He straightened his head. ‘It’s just that I’ve never seen a mugger wearing a balaclava. It’s a bit too dressy for your usual hit and run street robbery.’

  ‘You sound like an expert.’

  The expression on his face became closed. ‘You wouldn’t believe the type of things I know darling.’

  Yeah, and I don’t want to find out, Daisy thought. She needed to get out of here quickly.

  ‘Thanks for being my knight in shining armour, but I’ve got to go.’

  His cocky grin shot back onto his face. ‘Name’s Ricky.’

  ‘Da—’ She blushed remembering the part she was playing. ‘Jennifer. I really must go.’

  She strode towards her car. As she opened the door she heard him say behind her, ‘Ain’t you forgetting something, Jennifer?’ She turned and her breath caught. In one hand he held her wig and in the other her bag. Shit. How could she have left the evidence lying around? She briskly closed the space between them and took the items from him.

  ‘One more thing, Jennifer.’

  Irritated she looked at him. ‘What?’

  ‘Well, since I’ve seen you from “below” I might as well do this as well.’

  Before she could respond he cupped her face in his large hands and lowered his lips. He gave her one of the most earth-shattering kisses she’d ever had in her life. He didn’t use his tongue; he didn’t need to with lips like his. Smooth and warm and moving with pure magic. Suddenly it hit her what she was allowing him to do. Allowing herself to do. An image of Jerome flashed through her mind. She stamped on his foot.

  ‘Ouch, girlfriend,’ he said with mock hurt clouding his mischievous eyes. ‘That ain’t the way to respond to a free gift.’

  With a huff she twirled away and stomped back to her car with his laughter sounding out behind her. She jumped into the sports car. Checked her rear-view mirror. All signs of her kiss-nabbing knight were gone. She should be furiously scrubbing his mark from her, but instead ran her tongue over her lips. She chucked the wig on the passenger seat. Dropped the bag into her lap. Opened it and pulled out her bracelets. Pushed them back into pl
ace over her wrists. As she pushed the key into the ignition her mobile went off. What now?

  She grabbed it from her bag.

  ‘Yes?’

  It was Charlie’s PA ‘I wouldn’t disturb you because of what happened to Angel, but you need to get back here now.’

  ‘Look, I’ll be just a while . . .’

  ‘You’ve got a visitor.’

  ‘Tell them to make an appointment.’

  ‘She says she’s your mother.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘She got away,’ Clarke panted into the mobile.

  He clutched his side as he leant heavily back in the seat of his motor a few minutes run away from the underground car park. Pain radiated from the four corners of his body. He was well out of shape for this type of run around. He’d been trailing Daisy Sullivan every step of the way. When she went to the club in Wapping; when she went to work; when she left tarted up in a blond wig; when she’d entered the bank.

  ‘How did that happen?’ Johnson’s tone was disgusted.

  ‘She was a bit tasty with her fists plus she had help.’

  ‘Help from who?’

  Clarke shook his head. ‘Dunno. Boyfriend maybe? Big black guy with a pair of feet on him. Funny thing is I know I’ve seen him somewhere before.’

  ‘Yeah? Look him up in our rogue’s gallery sometime. Did she get anything from the bank?’

  ‘She came out with exactly what she went in with. Mind you, I never saw what was in her bag, so she might have got the stuff from Hopkirk’s box. What do we do next?’

  ‘Nothing. We leave the rest up to Stella King.’

  Ten minutes later Ricky was back outside the tower block he’d dropped Tommy at in Bow. His new boss was already waiting for him.

  ‘I thought I told you to kit yourself up?’ Tommy said as he eased into the back seat, happy to let Ricky drive.

  Ricky checked him out in the rear-view mirror. Watched as Tommy dropped some white powder onto the back of his hand. Sniffed. Leant his head back against the leather seat as he closed his eyes.

  ‘I had to see my grandmother on the Island,’ he lied, using the local nickname for the Isle of Dogs. It wouldn’t do for Tommy to know what he’d been really up to.

  Tommy’s eyes snapped open as he let out a loud laugh. ‘My mum’s gonna love you. She loves anyone who takes care of their dear ma and granny.’

  ‘Where to, boss?’

  The fun slipped from Tommy’s face. ‘We need to go to my lock-up to pick up a van.’ He caught Ricky’s gaze in the rear-view mirror. Caught the unasked question in his eyes. ‘My mum needs us to do a job.’

  Something must have gone wrong.

  The thought beat urgently inside Daisy’s brain as she walked briskly towards Charlie’s PA’s desk. She had changed quickly in a lightning visit back at her home, dropping her bag there and picking up a different one, and was now back to being Daisy Sullivan, highflying lawyer. Why would Jackie be back when she was meant to be on holiday? Why wouldn’t she have called her? Daisy prayed that no one had been hurt. That something terrible hadn’t happened to one of Jackie’s kids.

  ‘Is she in my office?’ Daisy asked in a rush.

  ‘No.’ The other woman twisted her lips. ‘I couldn’t put her in there because . . . you know.’

  Yes, Daisy knew. Her office was most probably still being treated as a crime scene after Angel’s death.

  ‘I put her in Charlie’s office.’ The other woman gave her a smile. ‘She looks a lot like you. Tall and that beauty spot just above her lip.’

  That stopped Daisy in her tracks. Tall? Beauty spot? Jackie was as small as a five-pence piece and the only thing she had directly above her lip was a nose. Daisy stared at the PA with a dazed expression as her finger self-consciously touched her own beauty spot.

  ‘Are you sure she said she was my mother?’ Daisy got a confident nod in return.

  As she strode towards Charlie’s office a strange, trembling feeling washed over her.

  ‘She says she’s your mother.’

  Charlie’s PA’s words hit her again and again and again with every step that she took.

  Her mother?

  She shook her head slowly. The terrible feeling turned to dread.

  No it couldn’t be. No way . . .

  The PA was right. The woman inside the office was tall. She stood with her back to Daisy, silhouetted by the light coming in from the window. She wore maroon stilettos and a leopard-skin fur coat that reached midway down her thighs. Her hair was pale and fluffed out and back.

  ‘Can I help you?’ Something held Daisy in the doorway. Dread? Panic? Fear? She wasn’t sure, but she was not taking another step until this woman turned around.

  She didn’t have to wait long. Almost in slo-mo, the woman turned herself to face Daisy. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at just one thing on the woman’s face. Not her heavy make-up, not her expertly plucked eyebrows, not her expression, which was half friendly, half closed. But at the beauty spot that was a replica of her own. Daisy’s hand gripped the doorframe. Suddenly the woman’s face slashed into a blinding smile. She held out her arms wide. And in a throaty, husky, cockney voice she said, ‘Ain’t you gonna give your ol’ mum a hug?’

  Daisy had always imagined the day she would meet her mum. She’d find her living in some pretty suburban house just outside of London. She’d go up to the door. Press the bell. Anxiously wait on the doorstep. When the door opened it would reveal a woman, with a lovely smile. And when Daisy said the magic words, ‘I’m your daughter,’ her mother would fling her arms around her and start crying. Start telling her how she’d never wanted to give her up and had longed for the day she would see her again. And in return Daisy would sob back, ‘Mum, Mum, oh, how I’ve missed you.’ They’d cling and cry softly together. Speak aloud the plans they had to make up for lost time and dream up a future together.

  Then the words that her dad always said to her when she asked about her mum came crashing back to her: ‘Believe me Daisy baby. You’ll never be old enough to know about your old girl.’

  Instead of a hug Daisy calmly closed the door behind her. The woman claiming to be her mum dropped her hands back to her side. Daisy kept her distance as her fingers stroked her left bracelet. ‘What do you want?’ Her voice tight, filled with so much cold resentment that the words almost froze in her throat. How could this woman, who looked like a stolen million dollars, have the nerve to come looking for her now? Have the nerve to have turned her back on her daughter so easily?

  ‘You’ve still got Frankie’s eyes.’ Now the woman moved. Took one step closer, smiling at her all the way. ‘My little girl has grown up to be a real stunner.’

  Daisy folded her arms tight across her middle. ‘I don’t remember your name.’

  ‘Stella. Stella King.’ She took another step. ‘Course me and Frankie never tied the knot so you’re a King as well.’

  Daisy repeated her earlier question. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Look.’ Stella waved a gold-ringed hand in the air. ‘I know how you’re feeling, babe. Pissed off. Angry—’

  ‘You don’t have a clue how I’m feeling.’ Daisy’s words were hard. ‘How would you know what it feels like to have your mother turn her back on you when you’re only five years old?’

  Stella’s deep voice dropped even lower. ‘You don’t understand Daze . . .’

  Daze. Daisy flinched at the shortening of her name. ‘You’re right. I don’t.’ For the first time Daisy stepped forward. ‘And maybe too many years have passed for me to give a flying f—’ She sucked the word back, remembering this woman claimed she was her mum, ‘toss about wanting to.’

  With a snap of her head Stella threw her hair off her shoulders. She drew the strap of her bag securely over her shoulder. ‘This was a mistake, alright.’ Her features were tight. ‘I should never have come here.’ And with that she rushed past Daisy towards the door.

  Daisy's heart rate jumped as she watched Stella
’s hand reach for the door handle. That was her mum and she was getting ready to once again bolt out of her life. Daisy could feel her heartache starting all over again.

  ‘Please don’t go,’ rushed out of her mouth before she could take the words back.

  Stella froze. ‘Please,’ Daisy pleaded.

  Stella’s hand fell away and she turned. She sent Daisy a soft smile. ‘You won’t regret this, Daze.’

  ‘I’ve missed you like hell, baby.’

  Daisy winced at the words. They sat in a small café around the corner from the law office on Chancery Lane. The place was bustling with city workers looking for a quiet spot to take a breather from the daily grind of life. A latte and a mug of tea lay on the round white table between them. They’d already been here for a good ten minutes, with Stella firing eager questions at her.

  How did you end up as a lawyer?

  Have you got a boyfriend?

  Where do you live?

  Daisy looked at Stella; she so wanted to believe her words. But there were so many questions in the way. ‘I went to live with Dad when I was five and I’m now twenty-six. That’s just over twenty years, why leave it so long?’

  Stella eased back in her chair and flicked her hair back with both her hands. ‘I’ll be straight up with you, Daisy. Neither Frankie nor me lived on the right side of the law. He went down for a four stretch, so I had to look after you the best way that I could. It ain’t easy for a woman on her own. Then when he came out he said that he didn’t want you living with me no more.’

  Daisy tilted her head looking puzzled. ‘But why would he say that?’

  Stella leant across the table, her expression grim. ‘You lived with me in a brothel.’

  Daisy reared back in shock. ‘We lived where?’