Queen of Green (Queen of Green Trilogy Book 1)

by V E Rooney

  Dusk turns into night, and sunshine gives way to rain. I tell myself I am being a stupid, soppy cunt to even consider it but before I can talk myself out of it, I untie the dogs and bring them inside. Yeah, they may get a bit stoned from the smell but I can’t leave them in the rain all night. Judging by the rapid wagging of stumps and the affectionate nuzzles against my legs, they seem relieved to be inside. It wouldn’t surprise me if that prick Paul left them outside all the time, no matter what the weather.

  I don’t get much sleep that night, with the rapid thuds of heavy raindrops on the thin slate roof above, and the accompanying eerie echo of the wind. I huddle on the mattress on the floor and make no effort to deter Tyson and Floyd when they curl up beside me. When dawn’s daylight returns a few hours later, illuminating the dust motes below the small skylight above me, I open my eyes to see both dogs fast asleep on their backs, paws suspended in the air. Who knew Rottweilers snored so loudly?

  At least the plants are picking up, judging by the colour returning to their foliage. Their bases are becoming stronger, the leaves are perkier and they’re responding to the new watering and feeding regime. The sweat that pours off me indicates that humidity levels are on the rise. I haven’t had a proper wash in three days and it shows. Every time I touch my face or wipe my brow, I can feel a thin layer of grime coating me. My clothes – T-shirt and trackie bottoms – are filthy with dust, Polyfilla and sweat. By this point, even the dogs don’t want to sniff me for too long. Thank fuck I’m not on my period.

  When Sean, Paul and Lee return on the afternoon of day three, Sean does a quick inspection of the plants.

  “Good job, girl. Good job. Right,” he says to Paul and Lee, “get on to Tony and get him back here. You. Outside.” I trudge downstairs. I can hear Sean, Paul and Lee following behind me but I don’t wait for them.

  Outside, I’m left kicking my heels by Paul’s car. Paul has let Tyson and Floyd off their chains and he plays with them as they bound around the back yard, chasing after the tatty tennis ball he’s throwing for them. Sean and Lee are huddled together by Sean’s car, a souped-up but unflashy Mitsubishi, speaking in low muffled voices. Then Lee nods at him and heads back to where I’m standing. I go to get in the back seat but Lee stops me. “Nah, love, you’re travelling with the boss.” I scowl at him and make my way to Sean’s car.

  Over by the dogs, Paul calls over to me. “Best get a shower, love, you’re fucking humming.”

  I say nothing to him. Instead, I put my fingers to my mouth and whistle. Immediately, Tyson and Floyd bound over to me, look up at me and wait expectantly by my feet. Paul has got this “what the fuck” expression on his face as he walks over. I look at the dogs and give the command.

  “Floppy dogs!”

  As one, Tyson and Floyd both drop to the floor, lie on their backs and freeze, paws in the air. I reach down and give them both a tickle. I hear a “fucking hell” from Sean, who then bursts into a fit of giggles and then full-on belly laughs. He sounds like a schoolboy who has just learned to spell “boobies” on his calculator. Paul looks at me like he wants to slap me.

  “What the fuck have you done to my dogs?” he asks indignantly, as Tyson and Floyd get up and resume their running around, oblivious to their master. “I think they needed a bit of female company, lad,” I say. I give him a wan smile as I dive into Sean’s car. As we drive off, Paul shouts after me. “What are you, eh, a fucking Jedi?”

  I’m tired, hungry and I feel like there’s seven shades of shit and grime slathered all over my body. Just want to go home, get a shower, have breakfast then check on my own stuff. My head is leaning on the passenger window of the car but out of the corner of my eye I can see Sean giving me the occasional glance.

  “And what the fuck are you looking at?” I snarl at him. A look of mock surprise crosses his face and he chuckles.

  “I can see you went to the Hitler school of charm, didn’t you?”

  “Look, Sean, I’m knackered, I just want to go home, alright?”

  “And I’m dropping you back home. Thought we’d have a chinwag on the way.”

  I say nothing. Talk at me as much as you like, sunshine, I’m too tired to give a fuck.

  “Listen,” he says as he pauses at a junction and scans both directions before edging out. “I know last week I put the frighteners on you at first, the lads got a bit heavy with you, but that’s standard procedure. I needed to see for myself what was going on. For all we knew, you lot could’ve been a gang of tooled-up hard cases itching for a showdown.”

  “Is that your attempt at an apology?”

  “I’m not apologising for anything, girl. But now that I’ve seen for myself, I still have more questions than answers.”

  “I meant what I said, yeah? I just grow weed and sell it. Believe me, I have no ambitions to be some sort of fucking big-time gangster. That’s your speciality.”

  “Big-time gangster,” he says, chuckling again. “OK, first thing’s first. Nobody in this game calls themselves a gangster, alright? Not if they’ve got any fucking sense about them. Second thing. I know that right now, you think I’m the biggest fucking cunt going, don’t you?”

  I look at him but don’t say anything.

  “Here you are, you’ve been doing well for yourself all this time, and then I swoop in and take you over and start bossing you around. You can’t stand that, can you?”

  I say nothing. I look straight ahead through the windscreen.

  “I’d be exactly the same if it was me. ‘Who the fuck is this twat giving me orders?’” he says, in what I think is meant to be an impression of me. “I know you don’t see it right now, girl, but trust me, be thanking your lucky fucking stars that it was me and not someone else who busted you.”

  “What, you’re doing me a favour?”

  “Yeah. I am.”

  “You’re doing me a favour? By treating me like I’m your fucking skivvy? Fucking little tea lady, am I?”

  “Can you make tea?”

  “Sod off.”

  “Look, Ali. I got you doing the plants because you know how to do plants. I mean, Jesus, it’s hard enough growing them in the first place, never mind in this crappy weather here. You seem to manage it alright. I’m impressed, girl. Seriously impressed.”

  “So what now? I’m growing my own stuff and your stuff now? And I’m expected to just drop everything and come running every time you click your fingers? Dossing in some shithole playing gardener and security guard?”

  “For now. Here’s my issue. Your stuff is top grade. Even my lads say so. And you can help get my stuff up to grade. You get a bonus off whatever we sell. And I think, with your skills, that you could be doing a whole lot better than you are now.”

  “What makes you think I want to be doing better?”

  He glances at me. “You’re still here, aren’t you? Still sat in my car when you’ve had at least three days to say fuck it, do a dusty and disappear?”

  “It’s not much a choice, is it? Work for you or not at all?”

  “Nah, girl. You had a choice. You chose to stick around when you could’ve fucked off. You also chose to get into this game in the first place when you could’ve used those brains of yours to be doing something else entirely. So don’t be fooling yourself that you’re some fucking put-upon slave or something, alright?”

  For the next few minutes, we are silent. I take in the flashes of daily life glimpsed outside rows of terraces and flats, wondering about what the rest of humanity is up to. As people are hanging their washing out, tending their gardens, unloading the shopping from their cars, I am sat with Sean Kerrigan, one of the most feared and respected crims in the city, while he imparts to me, in probably the gentlest manner that he’s ever done so, the fact that I report to him now.

  “It’s not like I’m closing you down, girl. You carry on with your little homegrown operation. I’m just saying from time to time I may find other uses for you, that’s all.”

  “Oh well, when you put i
t like that…”

  Sean’s eyes are darting about, ever mindful and watchful, not just of the traffic but also for people who look out of place. Sean is a surprisingly cautious driver. Well, maybe not so surprisingly.

  “You wouldn’t believe how many surveillance teams are sniffing around this part of town,” he says as we snake our way through the narrow streets of Toxteth. “I tell everyone the same thing. Don’t be driving something that attracts attention and don’t drive in a way that attracts attention. The busies will find any excuse to pull you over and tear your car to bits. And if they find something that shouldn’t be there? You’d best hope they lock you up before I get to you. So don’t make it easy for them.”

  “Well, I’m alright, I don’t drive.”

  Sean laughs. “You’ll have to learn sooner or later, girl. Big handicap not having your own transport, I’m telling you.”

  “I’ve already got a car. And a driver.”

  “Oh yeah, your own personal man mountain and bodyguard. Nice lad. Bit quiet though.”

  “I think anyone would get tongue-tied when they’ve got a shotgun pointed at their gob.”

  “Fair point, fair point. So your lad, are you two…”

  “Just good friends.”

  “Oh aye? So is there anyone you’re more than friends with?”

  “No offence Sean, but you’re a bit too old for me.”

  “Eh, don’t bloody flatter yourself, alright? I’m asking because I need to know if there’s anyone else I need to be aware of.”

  “I’m young, free and single and that’s how I like it. Anyway, what do you mean, what do you need to be aware of?”

  “If you’re gonna be working for me, I need to know who else is in the loop. Your loop, that is.”

  “There’s no one else. Just me and the boys. What, are you saying you’re gonna be vetting my boyfriends from now on? I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

  “I’m not your dad, girl. All I’m saying is that in the kind of business we’re in, you need to be careful about who you get involved with. No loudmouths, no one giving it the Big-I-Am bollocks, no one who…”

  “…who draws unnecessary attention to themselves.”

  “Exactly, girl. But looks to me like you know that already,” he says as he gives me a sideways glance. I turn my head to look out of the passenger window. Shop fronts pass in a blur of motion, trackie-clad scallies and Dannimac-swathed pensioners appear like figurines in a giant playset. There are a few moments when Sean toots his horn at some passer-by on the street and they give him a wave or a thumbs-up sign, like he’s some kind of returning king mingling with the peasants. Other times someone on the street will call out a greeting to him as his motor goes by. Someone even salutes. This man knows a lot of people – and everyone knows him, or knows of him at least.

  We pass the Rocket pub on Edge Lane and head eastwards along the M62. I decide to broach the subject of how Ste and the boys will be deployed by Sean. I explain how John and Brian are particularly looking forward to becoming gangsters-in-training. Sean laughs and shakes his head. “As far as I’m concerned, they’re your business. I don’t see why they can’t carry on selling, but for the time being, things carry on as before until I see where they can do a bit of overtime. As for that Ste lad, well, I know he’s your driver and everything, but if he wants some extra work, I can always use more bouncers and security crew. He’ll have to get trained up but I’ve got a firm that does all that. You think he’d be up for that?”

  “I think he’d be made up with that. It’ll give him a break from him driving me round and me driving him mental.”

  “But if he’s got a criminal record…”

  “No, he hasn’t. And he doesn’t go round kicking the shit out of people for the fun of it, either. Only when it’s necessary.”

  “When people don’t pay their bills on time.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s an occupational hazard, girl, but it’s got to be done. Can’t have people taking the piss. What about you? You ever been pulled up on anything?”

  “Nope. Clean as a nun’s knickers.”

  “You’ve never been collared? Not even for possession?”

  “Nope, never. Not even a caution. As far as the busies are concerned, I don’t even exist.”

  “That’s good. Make sure it stays that way.”

  “Yes, boss,” I say, huffily.

  At this, his smirk gives way to a proper full-on smile.

  21. PROBATIONARY PERIOD

  I’m back on my own turf. Kirkby seems just that bit smaller now that I’ve been given a tiny glimpse into Sean’s empire. I don’t know how much of it will remain off-limits to me but over the next few weeks, It feels like the door is opening just that bit wider with every interaction.

  Sean’s given me a pager with instructions to call from a public telephone after I get his messages. Sean’s in the habit of swapping his mobile phone every other week in case the busies get a trace on him, so often the messages consist of just the new number and nothing else. I get my tasks when I call. Sometimes it’s Sean on the other end, but most of the time it’s Paul or Lee dispatching orders on his behalf.

  My own business is ticking along nicely in the meantime, even if I now have to share the profits with Sean. His ready-made distribution network in the south side is bringing in even more customers but I’m keeping up with demand. The rhythm of my day carries on in much the same way as before but I know that when the pager buzzes, whatever it is that Sean requests becomes top priority.

  One day I’m in Speke checking up on a cannabis farm in someone’s loft.

  Another day I’m over in Dingle setting up seedlings, feeders and lights in another farm.

  Sometimes Ste and I will be asked to go pick up money from either a crew member or one of Sean’s businesses and deliver it to another crew member or business elsewhere.

  But as time skips along, my trips with Ste dwindle as he gets his own tasks from Sean, and more often I’ll be accompanying Paul and Lee as they make drop-offs and collections. “It makes sense, girl,” Sean tells me one day. “They can help you get to know who’s who and all that. And seeing as you’ve got a grip on the money side of things, you’ll know if someone’s skimming off me.”

  Paul is the friendlier and more switched on of the two and by that I mean he doesn’t come out with the oh-so-predictable sexist jibes that Lee likes to come out with. It’s clear that in this particular partnership, Paul is the brains and Lee is the brawn. I’m not quite clear on what they do for Sean. It seems to be a combination of chauffeur, bodyguard and enforcer, although from their snatches of conversation it’s also clear that they’ve both been friends with Sean for a very long time.

  One time, I meet Paul and Lee outside the bombed-out church at the top of Bold Street in Liverpool city centre. I jump in the back of the car as usual. Fuck knows where we’re going, I’m too busy listening to the two boys talking about their plans for the weekend. It’s like I’m invisible to them.

  “Aw, mate, I’m telling you, I’m in there,” says Paul excitedly.

  “Oh aye? She proper fit, like?” enquires Lee.

  “Fit as fuck, mate. Like she just fucking stepped out the Playboy mansion. Fucking gorgeous tits, pert little arse. I’m at the bar, right, and every time she walks past she’s clocking me. So, yeah, I reckon little Paul’s gonna get a good seeing to on Friday. If I play my cards right she can shake hands with little Paul, know what I mean?”

  Let’s hope the lucky recipient of Paul’s charms is deaf, dumb and blind in order to make the encounter more enjoyable for her.

  “Get in there, mate,” says Lee. “Oh aye…don’t forget, we’re going to that Earth, Wind & Fire gig on Saturday.”

  At the mention of one of my childhood musical favourites, I perk up.

  “You’re going to see Earth, Wind & Fire?” I say eagerly.

  “Yeah, they’re on in Manchester. Can’t fucking wait,” beams Paul.

  “I
love Earth, Wind & Fire. Are there any tickets left?” I ask.

  Lee whips his head around with a sneer on his face. “No. There aren’t. And anyway, even if there were, you’re not coming. Don’t want you showing us up, looking like you get your clothes from a fucking charity shop.”

  “Oh, I had no intention of being seen anywhere with you. People might think I’m your carer,” I mutter back at him.

  A few silent moments as we take in the scenery of Sefton Park Road. Then Lee pipes up again.

  “How come it’s Earth, Wind & Fire?” he asks Paul with a frown.

  “You what?” says Paul.

  “How come it’s Earth, Wind & Fire and not Earth, Wind, Fire & Water?” I have to give credit to Lee for knowing the four major elements. And it’s a valid question that I’ve never pondered before now.

  “Dunno,” mutters Paul. “Who gives a fuck, anyway?”

  “I think someone auditioned to be Water in the band,” I say, leaning forward to Lee. “But the other members thought he was just too wishy-washy.”

  Paul gets my crap joke straight away and starts chuckling, but Lee is still frowning. I carry on undeterred because I want to see if the lightbulb over his head ever comes on.

  “Sadly, during the audition, Water just ran out of steam…”

  More chuckling from Paul. A blank face from Lee.

  “And then Water just disappeared into thin air…”

  Paul is still chuckling but Lee doesn’t have a clue what’s so funny. He’s looking at me and then Paul with a slightly constipated expression on his face. Paul shoots him a contemptuous sideways glance. “You fucking blert…”

  It’s not just my horticultural skills that are proving useful to Sean’s burgeoning empire. My meticulous administrative skills are also being utilised. When Sean and his boys initially inspected my Kirkby farm, I had to open up the office safe for them. Inside the safe, alongside the accounts books, was a wad of cash amounting to just over £8,000 which they took as compensation. Call it selfish of me, but I neglected to mention that I have at least double that amount stashed around in various places, in addition to a few grand kept in legit bank accounts, ostensibly to show that I run a kosher business in case the tax people ever catch on to me.