by Martina Cole
Danny didn’t say any more. He knew when to keep his trap shut.
Mangan had seen the body before they had disposed of it, and he appreciated the fact that Danny Boy had washed and scrubbed himself up before making an appearance before him to get his well-earned lump of wedge. He didn’t insult the boy by reiterating how important it was that what he had done was not to be talked about, ever. He knew that wouldn’t be an issue. Once he was on the firm, people would put two and two together anyway. But wondering and knowing about something were two completely different things.
Filth would be placated as usual, with money, and the opportunity to pander to whatever vices they might favour, whether that was gambling or women. It was a pointless exercise for them now; without Jeremy and his testimony they were fucked. It was now a damage limitation exercise all round. But Mangan would never be mentioned personally, no matter what.
Lawrence threw a large brown envelope across the desk and Danny Boy Cadogan marvelled at the thickness of it, and knew that one day this would be him. He was determined that Lawrence would be his equal, not his employer.
‘There’s twenty grand in there: ten for your wages, and ten as a retainer. You work for me now, son. But you keep that to yourself for a while. I will pay you every six weeks, and when I need you again I’ll be in touch, all right?’
Danny nodded and picked up the envelope. He placed it inside his overcoat without opening it. ‘Thank you, Mr Mangan. Sir.’ He spoke with the respect he knew the man’s reputation demanded.
Lawrence watched him leave, saw the strength of him, the solidity of his young muscles and the viciousness of his personality. Danny Boy Cadogan would be an asset all right. He had the ability to do what was requested without the urge to discuss it at length. This kid had, after all, taken on the Murrays and crippled his own father. He knew how to play the game all right.
Hearing him leave the premises, Lawrence Mangan walked casually through to his other office. Then he looked at his old friend and said happily, ‘You put me wise there, Lou, the boy’s a card all right. A hard little fucker.’
Louie shrugged nonchalantly. ‘He’s a good kid, but take my advice and keep him in check. You saw the condition of Jeremy when he’d finished with him. If I know Danny Boy he enjoyed every second of it. He’s like a vicious dog; keep him fed and watered and he’ll be all right. Starve him or aggravate him, and you’ll have trouble on your hands.’ Louie was sad as he spoke, remembering the young lad who had first come to work for him at the scrapyard. That lad was gone now, and he would never come back. That was the downside of the world they lived in, and Danny Boy Cadogan, thanks to the man who had sired him, now fitted into that world perfectly.
Chapter Nine
Michael opened his eyes to the bright daylight and, feeling the burn, he closed them again. He felt the afternoon all around him; knew, without looking at the clock ticking loudly beside him, that it was at least four or five. The day was already gone.
The girl stirred, and it alerted him to the fact that he was not alone. Squinting, he opened his eyes once more and sought her out, saw that she was curled up in a ball, her tight body touching his. He was relieved to find that he didn’t know her from Adam. She had long blond hair and a baby face: from what he could see she had slim shoulders and good legs. He racked his brains trying to remember something, anything, about her. He couldn’t.
He slipped from the bed quietly and unobtrusively and consoled himself with the fact that he wasn’t in his own home so he could maybe fuck off before the usual talking started. Birds amazed him at times. They fucked you, a complete stranger, then expected you to treat them like visiting royalty. He loathed them all.
As he pulled on his clothes he glanced at her again. She was a nice-looking little thing, a bit flat-chested for his liking, but definitely not a barker, and he had woken up with more than a few of them. Right sights some of them: dogs in fact. Then, to add insult to injury, they had been under the mistaken apprehension that, because he had fucked them, they had some kind of rights over him. It was embarrassing, sometimes they even approached him in public, all chewing gum and mascara, their over-familiarity making them the enemy before they had even opened their traps. This had to stop, it was becoming a fucking joke. As he slipped his feet into his loafers he noticed, with a sinking heart, that she was now wide awake and watching him.
‘You going, then?’
It was a question, no more, no less. He nodded, determined not to get into any kind of discussion with her unless absolutely necessary.
‘OK, will I see you later on?’
She was cute in a young girl-next-door turned slag kind of way: her whole body now tensed up with regret. He realised that she was as much in the dark as he was about the previous night’s events.
‘I’ll ring you later.’
She laughed. Then, sitting up, she stretched languidly, her taut young body on full display, suddenly making him sorry to be leaving her so soon, before saying innocently, ‘I ain’t got a phone, mate, but leave your number and we’ll see, eh?’
He nodded, all the while wondering where he was, and how he had got here in the first place. It smelled like south London, why that was, he didn’t know, but it was the impression he got from the surroundings.
He was halfway down the narrow stairs before he realised that he was in some kind of squat, and nearly at the front door before he noticed Danny Boy leaning against the door jamb that led into the front room of the house, his usual grin on his face.
‘You all right, Mike? I was worried she had fucked you to death.’
He still looked tidy, he still looked fresh. Michael envied him his ability to snort amphetamines all night before drinking himself sober, all the while looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.
‘I feel like shit, Dan.’
Danny grinned then, ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Mike, but I sort of worked that one out for meself.’
He motioned for him to follow him through to the kitchen, and Michael knew he had no choice but to do as requested. The front room was empty except for a dark-haired girl who was asleep on the floor. She was still wasted, but her long black hair struck a chord in his mind. He stepped over her prostrate form, and walked into the tiny kitchenette. The stench of rubbish and unwashed bodies assailed his nostrils and he placed a hand over his mouth to stop himself throwing up. ‘What a shithole.’
Danny was still grinning as he opened the back door and walked out onto the scrap of concrete that masqueraded as a garden. There was an old sofa out there that had seen far better days, but it was available and looked comfortable enough, so they sat on it together. The sounds and smells of a usual Sunday afternoon were all around them. Radios blared and the aroma of roast meats filled the heavy afternoon air with promise. Suddenly they were both ravenous.
‘You were out of your nut last night, do you remember anything?’
Michael shook his head slowly. ‘Not really, no. Is the car outside?’
‘It better be, there’s thirty grand in the boot.’
Danny was laughing once more and Michael closed his eyes as the memory of the night before’s events filtered into his consciousness. Placing his head in his hands, Michael groaned loudly. ‘We didn’t, did we? Oh fuck, Dan, tell me we didn’t!’
Danny was roaring with laughter now, and his laughter was infectious, making Michael laugh with him. ‘Lawrence is going to kill us, Dan.’
‘No he ain’t, he asked us to do something and we did it. The money is in the car, the debt has been settled and we have bunced ourselves in the process. Everyone’s a winner.’
‘But thirty grand . . .’
Danny was deadly serious now, his laughing demeanour gone. ‘We earned that money, fair and square, and no one will deny us a bit of spare cash. It was there and we took it. End of.’
Michael knew that his friend was talking the truth. They had collected a gambling debt for Lawrence, a usual occurrence these days, and the man they ha
d been sent to shake down had been fortunate enough to have finally experienced a big win that afternoon. In fact, he had more than enough to pay what he owed, and set him up for future losses. They had taken Lawrence’s money first, as was to be expected. Then they had decided to remove the rest of the man’s winnings as an example. At least, that’s what they had told each other anyway. High as kites, they had robbed him really; they had even used a gun. But they had seen his stash and decided that they were entitled to a percentage of it to compensate them for all the trouble they had gone to chasing the slippery fucker all over the Smoke.
The man, Jimmy Powell, who had a rep as someone who did not make friends easily, had made the hiding they were to have delivered for his tardiness somehow turn into a vicious beating, not only because they had decided that they wanted his money, but because he had laughed at them and fucked them off. He had made the fatal mistake of not taking them seriously as now he had the poke to pay them off, he had thought he was home and dry. More fool him.
It had been a robbery all right, but it was also an easy earner. They felt that they had only exploited an opportunity that had presented itself to them, now where was the harm in that? They weren’t the first, and they certainly wouldn’t be the last men to take advantage of a chance to line their pockets and settle a score at the same time. And the man in question wasn’t really in a position to complain, was he? After all, he was the reason they were there in the first place. The fact that he had a few quid extra on his big day was his bad luck. Fifteen grand was not to be sneezed at, and the man was a lying piece of shit who had happily given them the run around for weeks. They felt they had earned the extra bunce for their dedication to their job; and the simple fact he had tried to mug them off. But they both knew that this went much deeper than that, that this was really about Danny Boy letting Lawrence know they were not happy with the situation any more. He was using them as gofers, and making it a point to remind them of that fact at every available opportunity. He made the mistake of thinking that a few quid in their bins would guarantee their loyalty.
They were testing him, they knew that and, more to the point, they knew that he knew that. In the last few years he had used them for many a dirty job and they had obliged, willingly. But, at twenty, they were real men and they wanted more than he was offering. Money was easily obtained, it was something they both had the knack of gathering. Danny was champing at the bit though, wanted free rein to do what he wanted, when he wanted. Michael had a feeling he would get that and, as usual, he would be dragged along for the ride. This wasn’t the first time they had stepped over the unwritten line, and it would not be the last. It was, though, the first time they had taken a large amount of cash on the side; this was serious money, gangster money.
All that was left now was seeing how their latest escapade would pan out. It was a melon scratcher; they had taken a chance, a fucking big one, and now they had to wait and see how it played out.
Michael, like Danny Boy, had a feeling they would either be trounced when they least expected it, or they would finally get the approbation Danny so desperately craved. Either way, they would know before the day was over.
Mary Miles was fifteen and she already attracted attention wherever she went. It was the wrong attention and she knew that because, somehow, her mother made her feel guilty about it. She acted as if Mary could personally stop it at any time, if she really wanted to. Men looked at her, young and old, and she felt their interest in her as if it was a tangible thing. Even though she did nothing to encourage them.
By the time Mary was twelve, she had developed a huge bust, almost overnight; it was the envy of all her school friends. But her mother made her feel as if it was just another thing she had done to disappoint her. The lovelier she became, the more she felt responsible for her mother’s obvious upset, and the less she felt any kind of self-respect. She thought her body was grotesque, and she listened to her mother’s warnings about how she would end up going to the bad with serious disbelief. While drunk and vicious her mother destroyed her at every available opportunity. She had became a by-word where they lived; her capacity for alcohol was legendary, but she was still cute enough to make sure her daughter never got the chance to wander the streets with her mates. Michael, who Mary adored, was a worse jailer than her mother in many respects, but at least he had her best interests at heart.
As she knelt in the church she could feel the eyes of her mother boring into her back. She was praying hard, as usual, and she was praying for the same thing she always prayed for: freedom. Not just from her mother, but from the environment she lived in. Freedom from the drink, the squalor, and the constant vigilance needed to survive in their world. Mary hated the way she was coerced into doing what was expected of her, yet she knew she allowed it to happen because it was easier that way. Her mother had a knack of making her feel a despondency that would have taken other girls, so-called more experienced girls, years to comprehend. Mary knew why men looked at her, she even enjoyed the feeling it created sometimes, after all it was the only real power she had in her life. Plus, it annoyed her mother, which was a bonus as far as she was concerned.
Mary looked like her mother. Beauties, both of them, but whereas Mary wanted the chance to embrace hers and enjoy it, her mother was determined to make sure she didn’t go the same way as she had. Determined to make sure she didn’t waste it on someone who would never see beyond it. Religion had been her solace, and she had embraced it with a fervour that had aggravated her parish priest and given her a certain cachet in her circle of friends. No matter how pissed she was, she always went to early Mass; it was how she justified her behaviour. No matter what she was accused of, and as she remembered little of her drunken escapades, accuse was a word she knew was used often, she attended mass religiously. The pun always made her laugh, but the hypocrisy of her life was lost on her.
She was going to watch this one like a hawk though, and personally make sure that she didn’t throw herself away on a useless ponce at the first available opportunity. If she used her loaf Mary could make a good match for herself, but only if she was watched over closely and counselled wisely. The sap was already rising in her; men were already interested, and she them, and Mrs Miles was determined to personally make sure that her daughter went to someone who could give her more than children and heartbreak. Someone who would look after her and who would bring her, not just a few quid, but respect on her family. She wanted her to realise that once the so-called love wore off there was nothing left for most women except existing. Once the looks went and the body grew fat and sagged, there was nothing left for them except trying to get by; only, by then, you had a handful of kids hanging on your breasts and suddenly existing was all you could focus on for any length of time.
She should know, she had been existing for years and now she depended on her son for her daily bread. Michael was a good boy, but without Cadogan he would have sunk without trace a long time ago. Like his father before him, he lacked balls and, if he fucked up, then this girl, this beautiful child, was going to be her golden goose. With Michael making a name for himself she should make a good match; she would be honoured because of her brother. Without him she was fodder for the first good-looking boy with nice teeth and a way with words.
Love and lust, two completely different things, only you didn’t realise that until you grew up and had a few kids under your belt. By then, of course, it was too late to rectify your mistakes; you were saddled with a man who you had not only lost respect for, but who you still needed, albeit for all the wrong reasons. Money, being the main one; fear of poverty and making the rent was suddenly the driving force in your life. Well, that was not going to happen to her Mary if she had anything to do with it. She was keeping her in reserve, and daily Mass was part of her master plan. Well-stacked and virginal, she was already making waves and, though Mary wouldn’t thank her just yet, she would one day in the future. After all, life was hard enough as it was without throwing herself away on so
meone who would only let her down.
As the Mass commenced she lowered her head and prayed for the guidance she so sorely needed. God was good, and so was her daughter, and she was going to make sure she stayed that way. Her life was not going to be repeated by this girl of hers; she was going to have all the things a good man could provide, and she was going to make sure that she also benefited from her daughter’s good fortune. She had earned that much, whatever anyone else might think.
Ange had dressed the kids in their finery and taken them to the cinema; her son had asked her politely to take them out for the day. It was a rare treat for them, even though she was never short of money any more. In fact, she had found that she didn’t really want to take them anywhere now she finally had the wherewithal to do so. Promising them things had been one thing, doing them another.
That her son made sure they were all right for money suited her right down to the ground, that her husband was constantly vilified and abused in his own home distressed her. But she had swallowed because the thought of going back to the old days terrified her, yet now the rumour was that Danny Boy had blotted his copybook with Mangan, so once more her thoughts turned to revenge.
Danny was a force, a serious force, and she was ashamed to admit that she was frightened of her own flesh and blood. But, if she was honest, even she didn’t know what he was truly capable of. That he was now a name and that that name had given her the prestige she had always craved was forgotten. It was amazing how easy it was to forget what her husband had really been like in his heyday. How simple it was to totally rewrite history in her own mind and make him out to be a saint, convince herself he was nothing more than a misguided man who was widely misunderstood. Since his run-in with his son, he had become the husband she had wanted him to be. He was no good to anyone really, not any more. Not in the true sense of the word anyway. In fact, he was incapable of anything even resembling lovemaking, and she told herself she was glad about that. He said he was impotent, but she knew that was because he didn’t want her any more. Not since she had miscarried the last child, and Danny Boy had made his feelings clear about the situation. Since then their physical relationship had gradually dwindled until, now, there was nothing between them. She consoled herself with the fact that there was nothing going on with anyone else, either. Not only was her husband crippled, his fear of Danny made him keep himself to himself. And who would want him, anyway? Now they talked, had the relationship she had dreamed of all those years, and it wasn’t what it was cracked up to be. His philandering had often been the cause of the fights between them, fights where she had never been the victor, but where the making up had been impressive. Now she wanted that back again, only it wasn’t going to happen, and she was left with a son who tolerated his father and, if she was honest, frightened his own mother. He had changed so much, and not for the better.