Faces

by Martina Cole

The priest nodded and looked around him with pride. ‘I know what you mean, Danny, I feel the same meself.’

  He looked into Danny Boy’s eyes then, and saw the blankness there that he sometimes encountered when he talked to him, and he said sadly, ‘Is everything all right with you? I feel you’re troubled in some way.’

  Danny Boy sat back in his seat and, looking up once more at the huge crucifix above the altar, he answered him with a smile, ‘I’m fine, Father. It’s not me, it’s everybody else.’

  They laughed together at his words, then Danny asked quietly, ‘Has my friend been in at all this morning?’

  ‘No. No one’s been in since the nine o’clock Mass. In fact, I had better get a move on, I’m due to give a mass at the infant school in twenty minutes. I love the little ones, they are still in awe of the power of their God, they still believe in Him without question.’

  Danny grinned, his handsome face softer now, his whole body relaxed and loose. ‘God is good, all right, Father. I know that better than anyone. He has always answered my prayers, always kept His eye on me.’

  Father Mahoney left him then, pleased that such faith had been rewarded, and wondering what his housekeeper would be serving up for his lunch.

  Danny Boy watched him go, and wondered where his ten thirty appointment had got to. He had a lot on today and didn’t have the time to hang about.

  Michael was already at the yard when he heard Danny Boy’s car pull up. It was nearly lunchtime and he had not been expecting him so soon. He put the papers he had been looking at back into the safe and shut it quickly. Already the guilt seemed to be overwhelming him.

  As Danny strode through the door he smiled nervously, ‘Where you been?’

  Danny Boy grinned and said jovially, ‘Who are you, the fucking police?’

  It was a stock answer and it normally made Michael laugh. Today, though, he didn’t find it in the least amusing. Danny stood in front of him, his huge bulk reminding Michael of just how dangerous this man could be as he said seriously, ‘Who’s rattled your fucking cage, you miserable fucker? You had a row with Carole?’

  Michael shrugged, his own bulk seemed to shrink in comparison when he stood beside Danny Boy, even though he knew he was a big man himself. Bigger than average, and he also knew he had a much firmer physique. Danny Boy had run to fat the last few years from his louche lifestyle, from his drinking and his drugging. Yet, he still had the power to intimidate him; it wasn’t about size or strength and Michael had always known that. It was about Danny Boy’s latent violence. It was about his ability to hurt and maim without any kind of reasoning or care. He was a psychopath, and they both knew that.

  ‘I’m just tired that’s all, I didn’t get much kip last night.’

  Danny was already over his strop and, going to the fridge, he took out two cans of lager. Throwing one to Michael he sat down behind the desk and, opening his own beer, he took a long drink, then burping loudly he said seriously, ‘I think Eli is taking us for a pair of cunts.’

  Michael opened his own beer and, sitting on the arm of the old sofa, he took a few sips; he was playing for time and they both knew it. Then, eventually, he said quietly on a long, drawn-out sigh. ‘Stop it, Danny. Eli is a mate.’

  Danny didn’t answer him, he was just watching him, staring at him. Michael knew the signs, he had been through this so many times before. Danny Boy would not let up until he had got his way, until Eli was nothing more than a distant memory for everyone concerned, including his family and friends.

  Michael had wondered who would be the next recipient of Danny Boy’s anger and, of all the people he had thought it might be, Eli Williams had never entered his head once. He didn’t know why, because he was a prime candidate. He was young, he was a Face, and he was a rising star in their community. Danny Boy hated to be outshone, hated anyone who he felt might one day pose a threat to him. At least that is what he insinuated anyway. But Eli was not a fucking no-neck, he was someone who wouldn’t take this latest development without a fucking fight. He had respect for both Danny Boy and Michael, and he was not afraid to show that respect. He was a diamond geezer, a fucking Brahma. He was a good earner and he had a good rep around town. In fact, Eli was a real mate to both of them, though Danny would conveniently forget that now, of course. He would now argue that he had heard stuff, that was the usual excuse, that he was a grass. Well, Danny Boy would know one better than he would if he came across one. That much had now been established.

  Michael sat forward and placed the can of Stella on the desk, then he looked at Danny Boy squarely as he said gravely, ‘This ain’t going to happen, Danny Boy. Not this time, not to Eli. I mean it.’

  Danny Boy didn’t bat an eyelid. He just sat there as quiet and as still as a dormouse, a faint smile playing on his thick sensuous lips.

  Michael stared back at him, anger building up inside him now; his complete and utter dislike of Danny Boy was threatening to overwhelm him.

  Danny laughed softly then. ‘I ain’t asking your permission, Michael, I was just acquainting you with the facts. Eli is making mugs of us, and if you can’t see that then you’re as big a cunt as he is.’

  Michael shook his head angrily and Danny Boy was suddenly shocked by this vehemence and Michael saw that and was pleased about it. ‘No. This is not going to happen, Danny.’ Michael pointed a finger towards his friend as he almost yelled, ‘You are not doing this; Eli is a fucking good bloke and he’s proved his loyalty to us on more than one occasion. So, get it out of your head now. It ain’t happening.’

  Danny Boy was so shocked at Michael’s words that he didn’t speak for a few minutes and the silence hung between them like a shroud. Then he said, ‘What the fucking hell are you on about, Mike? You fucking think I am doing this for a laugh? I have it on good authority that he’s been mugging us off behind our backs.’

  Michael stood up then and, waving his hands in front of him as if bored by the whole conversation, he shouted, ‘And who told you all this then, eh? Give me a name or better still, ring them up, bring them over here and let them tell me what they’ve heard to me face.’ Michael crushed the empty can in his hand noisily, the anger welling up inside him making him pant as if with exertion, ‘Don’t do this, Danny Boy, I am asking you as a mate. Please don’t do this. Don’t go against me on this one.’

  Never before had he been so adamant about anything. Michael always went along with him eventually, and Danny Boy was not sure how to react to this new situation. He had always been able to talk Michael round, had always been the one to orchestrate and then finish these petty grievances, as he called them to himself. He saw Eli as a real threat now, saw him as a dangerous enemy, especially now that it seemed he had got Michael on his side. That he had Michael, his best friend, batting on his team. They were partners, Michael should be agreeing with him, not taking the side of their enemy, a fucking Drongo who made a good living off them and used them as a stepping stone to a better life.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re even saying all this, Michael, I can’t for the life of me understand why you would defend that cunt over me. Your partner, your best friend.’ He was laughing in abject disbelief.

  Michael sighed once more, his whole body seemed weighed down with the distress he felt inside of him. ‘You do anything to Eli and we’re fucking finished, Danny Boy. I mean it.’

  Danny sprang from his chair and Michael stood his ground, waited for the blow he was sure was going to come. But Danny Boy didn’t even raise his hand. But he saw Michael’s clenched fists and realised that he was willing to fight him over this if necessary; that knowledge astounded him more than anything. Danny Boy ran his hands through his thick, wiry hair, his whole countenance one of complete shock. Never before had they ever had a disagreement like this. Michael would normally try and talk him round, try and cajole him, would try and reason with him. He listened to his friend a lot of the time, and respected what he had to say. But that was about business; this need he felt to get rid of his riva
l was not something Michael could ever have any control over. In fact, he generally let him get on with it. So this sudden angry outburst had thrown him. He was not expecting it, and he didn’t know how to deal with it.

  ‘Michael, you’d better think about what you’re saying here because I ain’t fucking backing down. Eli and his brothers are taking both of us for a pair of fucking earholes. Now, you think long and hard before you go making any more threats, OK. Because I swear to you that I ain’t fucking backing down on this for you or anyone else. They’re history, mate.’

  Michael looked at his oldest friend; he saw the determination in his eyes and the hatred in his face. Nodding gently he said sadly, ‘Then I guess there’s nothing else for me to say, is there?’

  As he turned to leave, Danny Boy shouted angrily, ‘Where the fuck do you think you’re going?’

  Michael didn’t answer him. He walked from the Portakabin and out into the sunshine and looked around him, saw the scrapyard as if for the first time. He suddenly saw the decay everywhere, the dog faeces that littered the ground. Saw the cars that were rusted and deformed from years of lying in the one place and saw the pile of tyres that was growing by the day. Then he saw the pale face of the dogs’ owner; knew that he had heard them shouting but knew he didn’t know what they were shouting about.

  In all the years they had been partners he had never before gone against Danny Boy like that. But then, he knew a lot more than Danny Boy realised, and that was a big part of his stand now. As he climbed into his car he saw Danny Boy watching him from the window, his face a dark scowl and his shoulders hunched up with his anger. For the first time ever, Michael didn’t care about Danny Boy Cadogan’s feelings. This left him with a huge sense of relief, as if he had just had the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders. He drove home slowly and carefully, his mind once more replaying the events of the last few days. He had to see Arnold and sort out this lot once and for all. They had Marsh in a safe place, but that wouldn’t be a safe place for long. Not now he had walked out on Danny Boy. They had to marshal their defences as quickly as possible, because Danny Boy would strike first and ask questions much, much later, especially if he sussed out what was going down. This was make-or-break time; Michael knew there was no going back now.

  Danny Boy was unable to take what had just happened on board. As he watched Michael drive out of the yard he felt a terrible sense of foreboding, an awful feeling of loneliness and desolation wash over him. Pouring himself a large brandy he threw it back in two large gulps then, filling the glass once more, he sat back at his desk and pondered the morning’s events. Never before had they fallen out like this. Danny knew he had stronged it in the past, had mouthed off to his mate, had forced his opinions on him. But Michael had always swallowed, had always known that he didn’t mean the half of it. Michael Miles was the only person he really and truly cared about. He loved him. And he knew that his own wife Mary had kept her problems quiet because of the friendship they shared. He knew that if Mary had ever told Michael what happened between them it would have stopped a long time ago, as would their partnership. It was partly her compliance in his angry outbursts that made him dislike her so much at times. She kept her mouth shut so her brother wouldn’t have to do anything about it. So her brother wouldn’t be in any danger from his friend. The friend who loved him and who loathed her for her weakness. Michael was the only person he genuinely cared about, had ever cared about, for that matter. He depended on him, had always depended on him. And he’d believed that Michael felt the same way as he did. Now though, for Michael to turn on him like that, was as unbelievable as it was unsettling. He didn’t know how to deal with this situation. He was rarely thwarted, and Michael’s complete disregard for his opinion was something he had never experienced before in his life. Even his mother and father had rarely disagreed with him, what he said invariably went with most of the people he dealt with. He thought that was because they knew he was right. Knew that he was doing what he felt was the best for them all.

  Now Michael had turned on him, had given him an ultimatum, and he had meant every word of it and that was what was bothering him so much; Michael was adamant. And he knew Michael when he got a bee in his bonnet about something, he would not back down for anybody, not even for him.

  Danny realised that it would be in his best interests to go and see Michael when he had calmed down and agree to his demands. They had too much riding on this for them to fall out over such a silly disagreement. After all, he needed Michael for the day-to-day running of everything; he knew how much he depended on him, needed him on-side.

  He smiled then. There were other ways to skin a cat, and Eli was going down whatever anyone might think. He would bide his time and, when this had blown over, he would see Eli out of the frame if it was the last thing he ever did. But until then, he had to get Michael back on board, convince him that he had come round to his way of thinking.

  Eli Williams and his brothers were safe for the moment, thanks to Michael and his misguided loyalty. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be going after them in the future. It was Michael he needed to sort out now. Michael, his friend.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Mary and Carole were each as surprised as the other at their husbands’ falling-out.

  ‘It’s just unheard of, ain’t it, Mary? I can never remember them being at odds before, can you?’

  Mary shook her head slowly, the news had completely thrown her.

  ‘Mike just walked in and said, if Danny Boy rings, you haven’t seen him?’

  Carole nodded again. Her moon-face was as concerned as Mary’s. ‘He said fuck him, that was his exact words. Fuck him. Then he went into his office and, about five minutes later, he left the house and I ain’t seen him since.’

  ‘How did he look as he went out?’

  Carole shrugged. ‘I’ve never seen him like it, he was so angry. Mary, he scared me, and I have never been scared of him, ever. He’s the kindest man I know. What can have happened?’

  Mary shook her head, as always she looked perfect. ‘Danny loves Michael; sometimes I think he’s the only person he really cares about other than the girls. Something has gone wrong, obviously, but what that could be, I have no idea. Danny tells me nothing.’

  The two women drank their coffees and Mary laced hers liberally with brandy, she had a feeling if her husband and brother had really fallen out, she would need all the help she could get.

  As she lit a cigarette Carole saw the bruises on her friend’s forearm and wondered at Michael, at how he could never have noticed his sister’s predicament. But then she knew it was beyond his comprehension to think that Danny Boy could hurt his wife; he believed that, for all his violent tempers, and his tantrums, his sister was exempt from her husband’s moods because he was her blood. That she was his sister and, as such, Danny Boy would never contemplate hurting her. Then again, he was also blind to her drinking so, maybe, deep down inside himself, he knew, or just guessed at a lot more than he let on. It would all come out in the wash as her old mum used to say whenever a mystery presented itself. And it looked like this particular wash day could be just around the corner. She had a bad feeling about all this, and she didn’t know why. All she knew was, that her husband had looked fit to be tied, and that was something she had never seen before.

  ‘Danny, calm yourself, son.’

  Danny Boy could feel his mother’s fear and it annoyed him. She was his mother, for crying out loud; she was the last person who should feel any worry where he was concerned. That history had shown her different didn’t concern him at that time because, as always, he was rewriting the past as he went along. It was a knack he had, he had inherited it from his father, though Ange knew she would never point that out to him.

  ‘Is Jonjo in or not?’

  Ange nodded and, pushing at her eldest son roughly, she cried, ‘Will you sit down and let me get him? He’s in the shower.’

  Danny was taken aback at her actions and, as al
ways, his anger left just as quickly as it had arrived and putting his hands up in mock terror, he said, ‘All right, Mum, relax! I’ll go up to him.’

  As he sprinted up the stairs he called out, ‘Make a cup of Rosie will you?’

  Jonjo was on the landing waiting for him, and Danny Boy grinned at him, deliberately not seeing the livid bruising all over his body from their last encounter.

  ‘All right, Jonjo? I need a few words.’

  Jonjo followed him into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Danny looked around the cluttered room and grinned. ‘Fucking hell, all you need are a few Janet Jackson posters on the wall and it could be a fucking teenager’s room.’

  Danny sat on the bed heavily, the mattress straining under his colossal weight. ‘Ain’t you got any fucking shame, living with your mum like a little kid?’

  Jonjo stood very still and listened very quietly to his brother’s harangue. He knew it was pointless answering him in any way as it would just make things worse. He waited until Danny Boy had run out of steam, then he sat down gently on the small stool at the dressing table and said respectfully, ‘What can I do for you, Danny Boy?’

  Danny was gratified at his brother’s whole attitude; this was what he craved, this was what he needed. Unconditional respect, people understanding that he was the man in control, it was what he was good at. What he needed as a salve for all the humiliation he had suffered as a kid, from the scruffy clothes to the home haircuts.

  Danny loved the way people moved out of his way, how they looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and fear and how their respect was already a given. He even needed it from his own family, in fact he needed it more from them than he did strangers.

  ‘What can you do for me? Well, that’s a fucking funny thing for you to be asking, don’t you think? When, like everyone else you wouldn’t even be in this poxy little bedroom unless I allowed it.’