The Burnley Boys

by Drew Black

  "Well, it is, and it isn't. We want to get you in there as quickly as possible, but once that's achieved don't feel like you have to rush things. Like I said, he's cagey, and it's absolutely vital that you win his trust. Therefore, as far as I'm concerned, within reason, it takes as long as it takes. Are you absolutely sure you don't need a new identity; I can arrange it?"

  Philippa sat back down and shook her head. "He won't find anything on me, and in the unlikelihood that he does, I'll talk my way out of it. My parents have both passed away in recent years."

  "I'm sorry to hear that."

  "Thanks, but don't be. I never really saw eye to eye with either of them. They always preferred my sister, Janine. Janine this, Janine that. To some degree I can understand them favouring her, but what really hurt was they never tried to hide it from me. I just hope that I don't behave that way if I ever have children."

  "You've done all right for yourself though." Jenkins said.

  Philippa pulled a face. "I suppose so, but somehow I can't see Janine ever selling her body for money, not that she'd have many takers mind. Meow." she said clawing the air for effect.

  Jenkins smiled.

  "Anyway, as far as anyone's concerned, they left me some money, and together with my savings I decided to move out to the countryside."

  "The only thing that bothers me, is if Davies finds out you've done escort work. He will get you checked out, and if he gets even the slightest inkling that something's amiss, he'll cut you loose."

  "The only person that knows my history is Roy Jones, the guy I used to work for, and he's an associate of David's. I believe David's even given Roy a sweetener, commission, call it what you like, but obviously don't quote me on that."

  Jenkins shook his head to confirm that he wouldn't, "Who do you work for now then?" He asked feeling more than a little intrigued.

  "A guy from London, but don't worry about that, it's all be taken care of. I meant what I said about not looking down on the girls who work the streets, but to me it's just business, and if I can get six assignments a year, I'm more than happy."

  "How much do you charge? Oh God, I don't mean that as a proposition, I'm just curious." Jenkins asked putting his hands up defensively.

  Philippa laughed looking downwards, and for a moment Jenkins thought that she wasn't going to tell him, but then she looked up again curled her hair behind one ear and said; "Two hundred and fifty pounds, well that's what I make, anyway, the price to the client could be a lot more than that."

  "That’s not bad for one night's work. How can people pay so much just for sex?"

  "Well, they don't all pay themselves, some are sweeteners, but the ones who do pay seem to get off on it. It's as though the more they pay for it the more they enjoy it."

  "Do you ever enjoy it?" Jenkins ventured.

  Philippa looked at him for what seemed like an age before replying; "Yes and no. I enjoy doing a good job, if you understand what I mean."

  Jenkins nodded.

  "I also enjoy the control, but as for the sex, for the most part I try to imagine that they're somebody else, but that can sometimes be difficult. On the whole though, I can cope with it. However, if I had to do it day after day, I think it would probably drive me insane. Every now and then though, it's quite uplifting being made to feel special, even if you know deep down, it's just pretend."

  "I'll go and get your stuff." Jenkins said getting to his feet. "Which is your car?"

  "Thanks, it's a white Triumph, I've parked it around the corner, out of the way." Philippa said handing him the keys.

  "God, what the hell have you got in this thing?" Jenkins asked laying the case to rest in the hallway.

  "Yeah, I'm sorry I've brought rather a lot with me." She followed Jenkins upstairs, and he placed the suitcase on her bed before examining the white ridge that the cases’ handle had made on his palm. He was a fairly strong man, but that case was heavy. How the hell had she managed to get it into the car, in the first place, he wondered.

  "Thanks." Philippa said. "Listen Dave, if it's okay with you, I just want to unpack my case, take a bath and then get an early night." Philippa then bit her bottom lip, "Perhaps I don't have to say this, but I hope you understand that I don't do freebies, or foreigners for that matter. The only person I'm screwing on this assignment is Davies."

  Jenkins looked at her feeling a little hurt. "Of course, I understand." He said quickly regaining his composure. "Would you like something to eat, a sandwich perhaps, I could leave it on the landing for you, if you like?"

  "No, I'm okay thanks, I'll see you in the morning." She said unclipping her case.

  "Goodnight then." Jenkins said pulling her door too behind him.

  3

  Philippa turned the key and opened Jenkins's front door. What a day it had been. "Dave." She called out, "Dave, are you home?" No reply, she picked up the mail and flicked through it, before placing it on the side. She went upstairs to her room and threw her briefcase on the bed. She sat down, and the bed's displaced springs lifted her up and down a couple of times. Funny how he prefers to sleep at the back of the house, she thought, removing her interview glasses and massaging the bridge of her nose. She put her hands behind her head and removed the grips and clips that held her hair in place. She then shook her head a couple of times and her hair cascaded down her back. She got up and got a bobble from her dressing table before returning to the bed. She looked at herself in the glass strip mirror which was incorporated into the wardrobe that stood directly opposite the base of the bed. She put the bobble in her teeth and gathered her hair into a long ponytail. After securing the bobble she let her hands loll down to her side.

  What the hell was she doing here? The mirror gave her the answer. She was thirty-three and still attractive, more than attractive even, but how long would that last, how long would she be able to command two hundred and fifty pounds per night, three years, five years tops? She needed this job and if anyone could pull it off, she knew she could. She was already living the part, she was looking forward to the challenge, but it also scared her. My leg she thought forlornly, my poor leg. She massaged her left leg with both hands. Well hopefully she would soon have a job, she'd managed six interviews in her first two weeks, she had also agreed rental on a house. She could move in next Saturday; it would've been this Saturday but for that damn football match. She just couldn't understand how people could get so excited about a group of men kicking a ball around a field. She got up and went to the bathroom where she inserted the bath's plug and turned on the hot water tap. She hesitated for a second before going back into her bedroom. She decided to treat herself to the expensive bubble bath she'd recently purchased. In all honesty, she just couldn't stomach another dose of the crap that Jenkins bathed in. She poured in the liquid sparingly before taking a smell from the bottle. Ah, that's more like it she thought, she felt better already as she encouraged the bubbles with her free hand. She replaced the top and dried her hand on the towel. Back in her bedroom she slipped of her blouse and bra and stood looking at her breasts in the mirror. She turned to and fro, examining them from every angle. Not bad, she concluded. "Oh, Mr Davies I didn't realise you were there." she said in her best Marilyn Monroe voice whilst fluttering her eyelashes. She smiled at her reflection before blowing her fringe out of her eyes.

  4

  Jenkins and Philippa Marsh sat eating their evening meal. "You can't beat coming home to a cooked meal." Jenkins said.

  "You should get yourself a wife Dave, and then you could have this every night."

  "Yeah, and the earache that goes with it, no thanks." He replied looking up at her.

  "That's a pretty cynical view, isn't it?" Philippa said picking at her food.

  "Yep, I suppose it is." Jenkins said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "Sorry." he said putting a hand to his mouth. "But the job's not very conducive to family life. Don't get me wrong, lots of the guys are married with kids, but most of the main players are either single or separated
."

  "That's a shame." Philippa said popping a fork full of peas into her mouth.

  "Not really, we're married to the job. One day I intend to settle down, when the right person comes along, as they say, but there's no rush. I'm actually seeing someone anyway. Well on and off, you might think it's awful, but it's my cousin.

  Philippa shook her head; "That's not awful, anyway, can't you marry your cousin these days?"

  "I think you can," Jenkins said again covering his mouth, "but it won't come to that."

  "Oh?" Philippa enquired.

  "No, she's a high-flier, I think I'm just a novelty, or she's just using me for experience."

  "And you, how do you see it?"

  Jenkins shrugged, "I suppose I'm flattered, she's good-looking, intelligent, and gives great sex."

  Philippa smiled, "Men." She said shaking her head.

  Jenkins shrugged again, "You asked me, so I told you."

  "That's fair comment." she said averting his gaze. "So, how often do you get to see her then?"

  "Not that often, every two or three weeks, usually at the weekend.

  "Are you seeing her this weekend?"

  "You are kidding, aren't you?"

  Philippa gave him a puzzled look.

  "It's the final, the World Cup Final. We're going to give the Germans a hammering."

  Realisation dawned on Philippa's face, "I keep forgetting." She said with a smile.

  "I wish I could invite you to watch it with us at Sounds, but obviously that's not possible."

  "Thanks, but I've got loads to do preparing to move into the house, and everything."

  "Of course, how have you gone on today, jobwise?"

  Philippa put her knife and fork down. "I should definitely have something nailed down by the end of next week, it's just the damned house, what with the football the landlord said it's inconvenient for me to move in until the following Saturday."

  Jenkins got up and started to pace the room. There was just something about this woman, far more than her looks, that made you want to help her. He felt absolutely certain that she could pull this off. "I'll give this guy a call, what's his name? Griffiths, Johnson?"

  "Mr Jordan." Philippa said expectantly.

  "Okay, a week on Saturday my ass, we'll have the keys by Monday. Then we'll have two weeks working on the house, getting it to look decent before ... well, before we contact Davies."

  Philippa went over to him put her hands to his face and kissed him full on the lips.

  It only lasted a couple of seconds, but it was one of the most exhilarating experiences of Jenkins's life. It seemed as though every nerve end in his body had been charged full of electricity. He felt the coolness of her hands and the softness of her lips, she smelt gorgeous.

  "Thank you." she said, "You've taken a real weight off my mind, I'm truly grateful."

  THE BIG GAME.

  1

  J ack awoke with a headache, something that seemed to be occurring more and more frequently these days, and what made it worse was he had a full day’s paperwork ahead of him. He might catch the second half of the match if he was lucky. He missed Tom awfully. If he was honest, he missed him more than Jane or Helen a fact that made him feel extremely guilty. However, he consoled himself by reasoning that wherever they were, they'd somehow understand his feelings.

  Jack sighed and pulled back the bedcovers. He still hadn't got fully used to sleeping on the back although it had been almost ten months since the accident. Even though the verdict had been accidental death, he was sure that Briggs had had something to do with it, but maybe that was just his paranoia which had definitely increased since Tom and the girls had gone. He'd amazed himself at how well he'd coped, the most difficult thing had been persuading Elizabeth and Sally that Sally should work elsewhere. They'd both put it down to her reminding him of the accident, something he tried to compensate for by making a conscious effort to visit them both on a regular basis. Due to the strict secrecy code operated within The Burnley Boys Sally had never been exposed to what went on in the syndicate, not even Christine, who was the syndicate’s only female member, knew fully how it operated. However, after the accident he had decided he wanted Sally as far away from it as possible.

  Jack's phone rang; "For fuck's sake, it's eight o'clock on a Saturday morning!" He shouted gesturing up towards the ceiling. He went back and flopped on his bed, when it had settled, he lifted the receiver; "Jack Davies."

  "Ay-ah Jack, it's Gerald, I hope I haven't woken you."

  "No, I was up already Gerald, what can I do for you?" Jack said laying back and staring up at the ceiling.

  "I just wanted to know if you were going down to the club today, Geoff's hired in the largest TV he could lay his hands on, and we're all going down there to watch the match."

  "I didn't think you liked football Gerald." Jack said with a half-smile on his face.

  "Oh yes I do,” Gerald enthused, “well the big games anyway. I'll be there cheering our boys on." Jack knew for a fact that Gerald hated football. In fact, he'd turned down enough complimentary tickets for the Clarets to fill Wembley Stadium twice over. Jack shook his head and smiled. "I'd love to Gerald, but honestly, just between you and me, I've got so much on, I don't know whether I'm coming or going."

  "Nonsense." Gerald replied. It was Gerald's tone as much as the word that surprised Jack. "We can all pitch in and give you a hand on Monday. God, if you’re that busy, I could even call round and give you a few hours tomorrow, but today we're going to thrash the Gerrys. I'll pick you up at one, that gives you a full five hours to get your work done."

  "Honestly, Gerald--" But the line had gone dead.

  "Right," he said jumping out of bed, five hours it is then."

  Jack and Gerald walked through Sound's reception and into the club and were greeted by a large cheer.

  "Fuckin' hell, have you seen who it isn't?" Jenkins said to Quilter who simply smiled back at him.

  Jack made his way to the bar; "Ay-ah John, you alright mate?"

  "Yeah, not bad thanks Mr Davies, yourself?"

  "Yeah, I'm fine thanks. Hey what are you doing here?" Jack exclaimed on spotting Sally. Sally turned around and looked at him. "Christine invited me." Sally said looking as though she was about to burst into tears. "Is that alright?"

  Jack made his way through the crowd to her, took her drink off her and handed it to Christine. Christine accepted it with a look of surprise. Jack gave Sally a bear hug and kissed the side of her head. "Of course, it his sweetheart." he said rubbing her back. When they parted, he kissed her again on the forehead. "Hey, no tears in here," he said, "that's only allowed if we lose."

  Sally laughed through her tears, Christine put their drinks down on a table and retrieved a handkerchief from her handbag.

  "Fuckin' look at him, he thinks he's the Pope." Jenkins said, the last couple of words sounding muffled as he went to take a drink from his pint.

  "Shut it Dave," Quilter hissed, "and slow down with the beer, it's not even half-one yet."

  "A lager and a bitter please Maggie. Take one for yourself and chalk one up for the girls when they're ready."

  "Okay Jack, thanks." Maggie said taking down two-pint glasses.

  The place was filling up nicely, in another half an hour you won’t be able to move in here Jack thought as he handed Gerald his pint.

  "Come on mate, let's go and get some prime seats. See you later Sally, Chris." Jack said as he started to make his way through the crowd. "Ay-ah Cath, Harry. Come on Gerald, we'll sit here." Jack said grateful for the fact that there were still some decent seats available.

  "Why are all the curtains drawn?" Gerald complained as he sat down.

  "It's for atmosphere." Jack said turning around, but Gerald was talking to Ted Jackson, Ted winked at him.

  A hand clamped down on his shoulder, and for a moment Jack felt sure that he would look up and see Tom's face beaming down on him. Instead when he did look up, he was greeted by Ray Strong. "Ay-ah Ra
y, Gill, it’s great to see you, are you guys back together again then?"

  Gill smiled a big smile; "Ay-ah Jack," she said, "yes, we're back together again, have been for over six months, but then you'd know that if you ever came in the restaurant, wouldn't you?"

  Jack smiled; "God, I can't believe it, come and sit down both of you." Gerald moved his legs to allow them to get through. He was still deep in conversation with Ted. "I'm so glad for both of you." Jack said shaking his head.

  "I'm really sorry about your loss." Gill said.

  Jack nodded; "Thanks." he replied.

  " I went to the funeral, but I didn't get chance to speak to you."

  Jack smiled; "Well, I'm sure wherever Tom's ended up, he'll be watching this today." he paused for a moment and then raised his glass; "To absent friends." he said.

  "To absent friends." Ray said clipping Jack's glass, Gill started to cry. "I'm sorry," she said, "I don't want to upset you." she took a deep breath and then hugged Jack. He patted her on the back and said, "Come on Gill, I've only been here twenty minutes, and you’re the second woman I've had in tears."

  "That'll be your face Jacko, you always were an ugly bugger." Ray quipped.

  Jack stuck his tongue out. "Gerald, sorry to interrupt you mate, do you know Ray and Gill Strong?"

  "Strong's Restaurant?" Gerald enquired, which pleased Ray no end.

  "And this is Ted Jackson, our estates manager, Ray and Gill are old school friends of mine and Tom's."

  "You do a damn fine steak down there Ray." Ted said.

  "For God's sake Ted, the lengths you'll go to, to get yourself a free meal." Jack said taking a drink from his pint.

  Ted clipped Jack round the ear, "I've known this lad since he was knee-high to a grasshopper, and he was a cheeky bugger, even back then. Me and Gerald are going over to annoy Harry, we'll see you young'uns in a bit."

  "You alright?" Jack asked Gerald.

  "Of course, I am, we're only moving ten yards."

  "Okay, see you in a bit."