by Martina Cole
‘That’s all we need now, done for fucking breaking and entering! We could never hold up our heads again.’
Maura and Garry laughed uproariously. Two minutes later the front door was open and they were in the spacious entrance hall.
‘Fuck me, this is real money. They must be coining it in.’
The awe in Kenny’s voice was not lost on Maura.
‘Lot of money in grassing, so I hear.’
He didn’t answer her. They walked through to an imposing pair of doors and Maura pushed them open. It was an act she was to regret: the scene of carnage before them was as outrageous as it was sickening. It also brought back memories she had long tried to suppress. Maura assumed the headless corpses on the floor of the drawing room were those of Rebekka and her husband, but none of them stuck around long enough to find out.
All Maura saw was Sammy, Rebekka’s father. He had been headless as well by the time her brother Michael had finished exacting his revenge. This was so like the death scene that Maura felt the icy fingers of fear on her neck.
Whoever was causing all this carnage knew far too much about them all, and that was what frightened her the most.
This was someone they all knew. It had to be someone very close.
The question was, who?
Lee was with one of the Ryans’ long-time associates, an old lag called Denny Thomas. Denny had been a breaker in his day and though now retired he made beer money by keeping his ear to the ground. Everyone knew and liked him, consequently he heard most of what was going on. Occasionally, as now, he was used as the bearer of bad news.
‘What do you want, Denny?’
Lee looked round the small council flat and tried unsuccessfully to find a clean place to sit. He finally opted for the arm of a battered leather sofa.
‘Come on, spit it out, I ain’t got all night.’
Denny looked nervous and this told Lee he really wasn’t going to like this.
‘Someone just tried to nut Vic Joliff in Belmarsh.’
Lee closed his eyes in consternation.
‘Who, Denny? Who tried to nut him?’
Denny shrugged.
‘I don’t know.’
Lee was struggling to keep a lid on his emotions. This was all they needed. He could see how nervous Denny was and felt a moment’s sorrow for the wreck of a man before him.
Denny went to an old-fashioned bar unit, which still held traces of its former glory, and poured them both large Scotches. The whole place had an air of dilapidation and disuse about it; Denny looked like he lived on the streets. Lee wondered how it happened to people; he could remember Denny in sharp suits, and always with a girl on his arm. He had been in the life whole-heartedly. Now he looked like any drunk you could see waiting for their Giro outside the Job Centre.
He passed Lee’s drink to him with a shaking hand.
‘Some young fellow was waiting for me outside the pub. He was in a brand-new Saab and he had a soot with him – Paki, I reckon. They told me to tell you lot that Vic was on his way out.’
Lee rolled his eyes to the ceiling.
‘You having a fucking tin bath, Denny?’
Denny gulped at his drink. His face held some of its long-ago hardness as he snapped back: ‘Do you think I want to get involved in all this, Lee? Is that what you really think? Your brother Michael and me went back years, mate. I was part of this firm when you was still putting fucking Brylcreem on your hair. I was dragged into this shit by strangers and I’m passing on the message. That is all.’
He was worried and he looked it. Once more Lee felt sorry for him. Denny wasn’t stirring, he didn’t have the nous. Which was why he’d never risen higher than common or garden breaker in his day. Lee would pass the message on and see what Maura had to say about it. For now he concentrated on getting descriptions but Denny’s eyesight was past it as he was.
Vic Joliff was scary even by Ryan standards. Lee just hoped he was good and dead; it would make their lives so much easier.
Janine watched her husband as he shaved. It was strange but she actually enjoyed looking at him even while she hated him. Roy still had the power to make her want him, which was almost unbelievable because each of them nursed a burning hatred of the other. Her continuing feelings of attraction to him always amazed her.
‘Where you off to then?’
Her voice held the edge it always had when talking to her husband. Roy sighed heavily.
‘I’m off out.’
‘Will you be home?’
He laughed gently.
‘Will the sun come up? Will the grass grow? Till Tony Blair finally become a Catholic . . . and who gives a fuck?’
Janine walked away from him, through the bedroom, and as she walked took in the clothes he had laid out ready and satisfied herself he wasn’t going out with a girl. And Roy’s birds were girls. Young ones, with pert breasts and the brains of a gnat. According to him that was how he liked them.
It still hurt even after all these years. As she walked downstairs her son shoved past her without even a passing glance or word.
‘How was Sarah?’
She hated herself for the sound of her own whining voice but she would do anything to get him to talk to her civilly. Benny didn’t even bother to answer her, just carried on up the stairs as if she had not spoken one word. Janine felt a lump in her throat and swallowed it down; her histrionics, as he called them, only made him more irritated with her.
Her own son ignored her shamefully, but she would wait and one day he would come to her on his knees and beg her to take him back into the fold. It was this thought that kept her going, that kept her alive. And the lifestyle her husband gave her helped, though like Sarah Ryan she would never admit that out loud.
Five minutes later both men were gone and the house was once more empty and cold. As she poured herself a large vodka there was a ring at the doorbell. Tutting loudly she opened the door, expecting her husband or son, assuming they had forgotten something. Instead a shotgun was shoved in her face and she was walked backwards inside the house by a large man in a ski mask.
After the shocking scene at the Kowolski house Maura told Kenny he could go home; they’d be in touch when they had something to go on. He’d seen for himself their shock and surprise, was reluctantly beginning to accept that they were being set up.
After a stiff drink at the club, Maura and Garry met Roy and Benny at their warehouse in Canning Town. It was warm in the small office, and as they all sipped coffee they were quiet.
‘Why Mother?’
Maura’s voice was low. Garry shrugged.
‘Why not? I mean, whoever this is they’re determined to aggravate us, ain’t they?’
‘It seems wherever we go they’ve been there first. They definitely have a working knowledge, don’t they?’
‘Could be following us, could have been following us for yonks.’ Benny sounded as annoyed as he felt. His whole body screamed for violence.
Maura nodded.
‘True. I think he has a point, don’t you?’
Garry wasn’t impressed.
‘Someone would have noticed it. Fuck me, we ain’t amateurs, are we?’ He grinned. ‘Except for little Benny, of course.’
‘Oh, fuck you.’
Garry laughed loudly but Maura was irritated and so was Roy.
‘Why don’t you grow up, Garry? This is serious.’
‘I know it’s serious, but we have to keep things in perspective. Laughing at adversity is the great British way, ain’t it? I mean, think about it.’
Maura shook her head in consternation.
‘Well, I ain’t laughing. Mother, as big a pain in the arse as she is, did not deserve a slap, especially not from some little firm with dreams of the big time. Because that is all this can be. We just have to get out and about and find the culprits. We start by routing old-time members of the family like I said before. Whoever this is knows far too much of our past history. Someone’s telling tales.’
; They all nodded, digesting this bit of logic.
‘What did Old Bill say?’
Roy shrugged.
‘The usual, they’ll keep their ears open. Fucking real, ain’t it? There we are, paying out hefty fucking wedge to that twat Billings, and he’s shitting himself now we want a payback. Anyway, I stuck a flea up his arse that will irritate him till the day he dies. Do you know what he had the cheek to say to me, eh? ‘‘Don’t threaten me, Ryan.’’ Straight up, he said it to me boat.’
Garry’s eyes were slits as he answered his brother.
‘I remember Billings when he was a DS – a ponce of the first water, he was. Used to take money from the working girls and that is low.’
‘It’s also how we got to him, Garry, if you remember.’
‘He’s had his cock sucked more times than Hugh Grant, I know that. One of the girls told me what he really likes and it’s chicken shit – jailbait, the babies. Well, he has three little daughters of his own and I wonder how his old woman would feel if he was found out?’
Maura hated it when they talked like this but she swallowed down her annoyance and said seriously, ‘Set him up, Gal. I want photos, the lot. Video even. I want that cunt by the short and curlies because we are going to need him. The money we scammed him is forgotten now. We should have blackmailed him from the off, saved ourselves a fortune.’
‘Well, we all know what the filth is like, don’t we, Maura?’
Garry’s voice was malicious and she felt an urge to slap his face, but resisted it. Instead she bellowed at him: ‘Keep your fucking stupid observations to yourself, Gal. I am trying to keep it together here but I tell you now: one more remark like that and I will turn on the lot of you. And as nutty as people think you are, there’ll be no one else in it when I get started.’
Picking up her bag, she stared each man in the face before leaving the room, bristling with anger.
‘That was out of order, Garry.’
He grinned.
‘No, it wasn’t. It will keep her on her toes, keep her annoyed enough not to grieve too much for that ponce Petherick.’
‘That’s twisted logic, Uncle Garry, if ever I heard it.’
They were quiet for a while then Garry said in all seriousness, ‘Do people really think I’m a nutter then?’
Even Roy laughed at that.
No one was laughing ten minutes later when Lee arrived and told them about Vic Joliff.
Maura was still fuming as she wheel-spinned on to Carla’s driveway. Switching off the engine and lights, she sat in the car and cried. She cried for Terry, for their baby, and she cried for herself.
As the racking sobs shook her body she was once more transported back in time to her first glimpse of the man who would ruin her life in so many ways. Her mother was right all along, they had been destined to destroy each other. He had destroyed her when he had abandoned her while she was pregnant with his child. With the tearing out of that child from her body her whole life had changed dramatically. The previously carefree young girl had been replaced by a bitter and hard woman. She for her part had first ruined his career and ultimately been the instrument of his destruction.
He was to be laid to rest in a few days. What was left of him would be cremated as he’d requested. She was dreading it. Her life felt finished in so many respects, it was becoming harder and harder to get up in the morning. But she forced herself, though deep inside she didn’t know why.
Even this latest business wasn’t keeping her mind free from thoughts of Terry Petherick. But like so many things in her past she would bury it deep, hide it away, and eventually block it out altogether. Until a chance word or a photo would bring it all back to her. Then, as now, she would face the consequences of her actions.
She was not that far off fifty though the mirror told her a different story. She knew she still looked good but it didn’t make her feel any better. She honestly didn’t care what she looked like. Had not really cared for years. It was just habit that made her keep herself nice. A mask to face the world. Even Terry, who had loved her looks or so he said, had not been the incentive that made her buy expensive clothes and shoes. She bought them because in her world what you wore said who you were. That ‘clothes maketh not the man’ was shite as far as she was concerned. They did, otherwise every designer label would have been out of business years ago.
She placed her head on the steering wheel once more and cried bitter tears. Terry’s belongings were still at her bombed-out house and she knew at some point she would have to go back there. But she also knew that if she did, she would crack. If she saw a photo of him or smelt his aftershave she would buckle under and die. She had to keep him out of her mind and life or she knew she wouldn’t survive, and the family needed her now more than ever. She wiped her eyes and lit a cigarette. As she smoked she felt herself becoming calmer. She pictured her brother Mickey in her mind’s eye and smiled gently as she saw him smiling back at her. She missed him so much.
She heard her big brother’s voice as she always did when she needed advice. She imagined what he would advise her and then made it her business to go along with what she thought he would want her to do.
As she sat quietly planning, a tap on the window startled her. It was Carla. Smiling, she opened the window and her niece’s words gave her the jolt she needed to forget her own grief.
‘Mum is in a seriously bad way, Maws. She was shot earlier this evening.’
Carla’s tears came then and instantly brought Maura from the car to comfort her. Despite the closeness of their ages, she had always been a rock for Carla to cling to, more of a mother than Janine had ever been. She was about to go to the hospital with Carla when Garry called with the news about Vic Joliff.
Roy looked down on his wife’s unconscious form and felt nothing. She had been shot twice, once in the chest and once in the legs. It was a similar shooting to that of Sandra Joliff. It was unbelievable to him that anyone would have brought such trouble to his home.
He glanced at Benny and saw the amazement on his face and knew he was feeling the same. Who could be behind all this? Who in their right mind would dare to take on the Ryans and make it so personal? Janine was his wife, albeit in name only nowadays, but it was the principle of it.
As he stared down at her he finally felt a stirring inside his breast. He remembered the lively redhead who had captured his heart all those years ago, and a lump formed in his throat. He should never have married her, never should have taken her from the security of her parents and their butcher’s shop and pseudo-respectability. She had walked away from them for him and he had never realised just how hard that must have been for her. Then she had gone on to his mother’s side, always preaching respectability. The two of them had formed a sanctimonious alliance that had exasperated and irritated him nearly all his married life.
Janine’s hatred of Maura had been another bone of contention, and the way she constantly worried about Benny and what would become of him. As Roy stared at her now he knew that where their son was concerned at least she had been right. Benny was a cold-blooded thug. Not a villain, not a face as he liked to think he was, but a violent thug. No better than a football hooligan or a creeper. His whole life revolved around violence for violence’s sake. He didn’t use it wisely, he used it in his everyday life. Even a parking dispute could send him over the top.
Roy closed his eyes and took his wife’s hand in his. She was cold; he had forgotten how soft her hands were. He looked down at the engagement ring he had bought her and the wedding band she had worn for so many years and felt the sting of tears. He would make it up to her, he promised himself. He would pretend if needs be, but he would make her happy once more if it was the last thing he did. It had taken this to make him see that she had been right, that all along their son was going to be like Michael but without his cunning. Benny was just violent whereas Michael had used force as a means to an end. Roy himself had helped break Janine’s heart and put her on the drink. Would he ever b
e able to make amends?
If she died, someone would pay dearly for this night’s work. They would pay anyway even if she lived.
He felt the urge to kill once more, felt the adrenaline pumping through his body. This was personal now. This was a piss take and he was not going to let it lie. Someone was going to pay for this affront, and pay dearly. He was determined on that much.
Janine’s hand clenched in his. It was just a reaction, but he felt inside that she was telling him to go out and cause mayhem until the perpetrator was found.
He smiled gently down at her.
He would, for once, do exactly as she wanted.
Benny watched his mother and father in a detached way. It was fascinating to him to see his father’s face, all the emotions on it. He secretly hoped his mother died. She was a pain as far as he was concerned, did nothing with her life except moan, and she was in league with the other bane of his life, his grandmother.
He sat quietly and willed her death even as his father willed her to live. Such were the conflicting emotions around Janine’s hospital bed.
Billy Mills answered his front door at three o’clock in the morning with a scowl on his face. Then, seeing Maura Ryan and her minder Tony Dooley, his face broke into a radiant smile. He had always liked Maura, always.
‘Hello, Maws, all right?’
It was a greeting and a question as ever. He knew about the aggravation she faced but wasn’t going to mention it until she did, which was only etiquette. Maura smiled and walked into his flat.
Billy lived in a penthouse at Barrier Point in East London. It was one of his many abodes. He was a fixer, and highly rated. Everyone liked him. Like his counterpart Kenny Smith he liaised with different firms while keeping himself completely neutral. It was a dangerous but lucrative business.
As Billy poured Maura a drink he watched her warily. He knew what had just happened to Vic Joliff and to the Ryan family, it was his job to make sure he knew everything, and it occurred to him that Maura was here either to ask his advice or to accuse him of working behind her back. It was a frightening realisation.