by Martina Cole
Kenny looked at the man before him: the nerve jumping in his cheek, the way his hands shook all the time, slopping tea out of his cup till his saucer was swimming in it and he didn’t even seem to notice. Kenny knew that if he put this request to Maura she’d probably agree, and he realised he couldn’t face the thought. There was bravery, and then there was stupidity. With Vic in this state he could do literally anything.
‘I can’t do that, Vic. I ain’t getting embroiled in something so risky.’
Vic sighed.
‘Probably for the best anyway. I could feel myself getting a bit soft for a minute there. Tell you what. If you won’t carry a message, will you pass on a threat then?’
Then Kenny knew he’d been right. Vic was so volatile he could turn on a sixpence. There was no way he and Maura could have set things to rights head to head.
‘Tell her I’ve a couple of scores to settle first but she’s definitely on me list. I’ll be seeing her soon. Pass it on, will you?’
Kenny nodded his head reluctantly. Neutrality be blowed. He would say something. The Ryans were good clients and it was Maura who kept that show on the road so it was in his own best interests to speak up.
‘Good boy, Kenny, and it’s not as if it’s a hardship for you, is it? Speaking to her, I mean.’
He didn’t know which was more galling: running a madman’s messages for him, or having him look straight through Kenny’s calm professionalism to the man beneath. The man who cared rather more than he should about keeping Maura Ryan out of harm’s way.
Chapter Twelve
Maura was so incensed that the three men just stood there like naughty little boys while she screamed at them. And scream she did. When she walked in and saw the body on the floor she felt such a sickening sense of déjà vu that it almost made her pass out. It was Sammy Goldbaum all over again. It was Michael’s boyfriend Jonny all over again. It brought back memories she would much rather forget.
‘I cannot leave you lot to do anything, can I? If I leave you alone for one minute someone is fucking well dead!’
No one answered at first.
‘It was an accident, Maura, we didn’t mean it,’ Benny protested.
‘’Course you didn’t. You lot couldn’t set up a fucking prayer meeting in a monastery.’
Their collective looks of embarrassment made her even angrier.
‘Did you glue his eyes shut, Benny Ryan? I expressly told you not to do that to him, didn’t I?’
He didn’t answer her.
‘I asked you a fucking question!’
Benny looked at her sheepishly and it occurred to her that he was to all intents and purposes a fucking maniac. At this moment in time she could just about control him. But for how long? Even Roy, before he decided to blot out the rest of his life with Prozac, had wondered about that – and he was Benny’s father.
Her nephew answered her with more spirit than she liked.
‘I didn’t do it deliberately, did I? Like I said, it was an accident.’
Maura stared at the three of them; they looked like they were outside the headmaster’s office after being caught smoking. Yet they had killed someone. Someone was fucking dead.
And none of them gave a flying fuck about it.
She knew it was an occupational hazard in their line of work, but needless killing was what this was and that to her was worse than anything. Benny got too much pleasure out of what he did, that had been evident for years. Even as a kid he had shown signs of his true nature. He was smothered by his mother and grandmother when all he had ever wanted was to be a man. From a small boy Benny had wanted to be a man. If only he understood what it took to be a real one, she would be able to walk away from them all. Looking at them now, she despaired of ever being free to do it.
Benny and Lee were smirking and this annoyed her even more.
‘It ain’t funny.’
Abul and Lee looked at one another and burst out laughing; this in turn caused Benny to crack up and as she stood in the cool of the cellar and watched as they all indulged in high raucous laughter, Maura felt as if she was on some kind of hallucinogenic drug. She felt, like so many times in the past, as if she had accidentally stepped into someone else’s nightmare.
Jamie was lying on the floor, his eyes glued shut and his lifeless body twisted at an impossible angle. The pain he’d felt before his death was written all over his face and for some reason he was clutching his balls.
It was a sorry scene, a sad and sorry scene, and she was ashamed that she was a part of it. Somehow when Michael was alive she had not felt the same guilt as she did now, because now the buck stopped with her. Jamie was a prat, had sold himself to the highest bidder. He was a gambler and they were always unreliable. Ponce that he was, though, he did not deserve this. The hardest part was going to be telling his wife and trying to make sure she was provided for in the future. Whatever Jamie was to them, Danny at least had loved him. He was the father of her children. He meant something to somebody, no matter how misguided they might have been about him.
She looked at the men. The laughter was wearing thin now and she knew they thought she was making a mountain out of a molehill, that this was not really that big a deal. She was as usual over-reacting – Benny’s favourite expression lately.
Maura tried to calm herself down. Fuck Jamie Hicks, he was history. She needed to know about Vic. That was the object of this exercise. What Jamie had had to say was really the most important thing for the family at this moment in time.
She sighed heavily, her tiredness and anger still evident. But it was futile being angry with them, they didn’t give a toss about any of it.
‘What did he have to say for himself before he died then?’
Her voice was bored-sounding now. Low. Once again they went all sheepish and quiet on her. They looked like they would all rather be anywhere but in this cellar in North London, and she mentally agreed with them in her head. At this moment in time she would cheerfully be anywhere in the world but here. Looking at a dead Jamie Hicks. Wondering how to break the news to his wife without causing her to drop the kid there and then.
‘Well, come on then, out with it. I ain’t got all fucking day.’
Benny shook his head.
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing?’ Her voice was rising again and she tried desperately to lower it. ‘What the fuck do you mean, nothing?’
Benny shrugged now; he was getting pissed off with it all.
‘What I fucking say. Nothing. Fuck all.’
The insolence was back in his voice.
Lee looked at her as he said, ‘He died more or less straight away, Maws. We hardly touched him, did we, lads?’
Maura looked at them all again as if it was the first time she had seen them in her life, so deep was her amazement at what they were telling her.
‘I don’t believe this. Are you telling me Jamie just upped and died without a word?’
Abul nodded, all business now. ‘I think he died of fright meself.’ He said it as if he was an authority. For some reason this made her even angrier.
‘And who are you, Abul? Dr fucking Bronowski? Any fool can see what he died of. One look at his boat should alert even you lot of fucking stiffs as to what he died of.’
‘What do you want, Maws? A fucking autopsy or what? So he is fucking dead. Big deal. Best thing for him, he was a cunt.’
Benny’s voice sent her into a frenzy and seeing her face harden he was once more reminded of what she was. What she was capable of.
‘Well, Mr fucking Clever Bollocks, he is a dead cunt now, isn’t he? And we are still none the wiser as to what he fucking knew about Joliff. So what do you recommend we do now then? Hire a fucking medium? Or better still, have you got a direct line to Doris Stokes?’
They were saved from answering by the arrival of Garry. He took one look at the scene before him and said in a loud voice, ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake . . .’
He was standing on the stairs in utter di
sbelief, staring at the dead body of Jamie Hicks. Their passport to Vic Joliff. She could see annoyance in every bone of his body. Even his hair looked angry. Someone was going to pay for this fuck up, and she was glad about that. Really pleased.
Maura laughed bitterly as she said, ‘You ain’t heard the best bit yet, Gal. It gets better. He died before they had found out anything. Benny here, Mr Airfix King, fucking frightened him to death.’
Garry was quiet for what seemed an age before he said gently, ‘You are joking?’
Lee and Maura knew when Garry was going to go ballistic, they had seen him like it enough times, and both moved back quickly as he descended the steps at a fast pace and launched himself at Benny, knocking Abul flying in his quest to grab his nephew’s throat.
It would do Benny good to be on the receiving end of this loony bastard’s fury, make him realise that there was someone madder than him walking around pretending to be normal.
‘You lairy little fucker! Look what you fucking done now.’
Garry’s voice was controlled but the anger was in his eyes, in his body language.
‘You just won’t listen, will you? Mr fucking Big Shot. He was our way to Joliff and you whacked him without a second’s thought. You little bastard!’
As he began giving Benny a kicking Maura walked from the cellar. She had had enough of it all. Tony Dooley held the car door open for her and she sat down inside the Mercedes and lit herself a cigarette.
She didn’t need to see Benny getting punished, though in her heart she was glad it was happening. After all, it was not before time. He needed to be reined in and Garry was the right man to do it. Garry frightened everyone, he always had, and she had a feeling that even at eighty he would still command fear. He was in his early-sixties now and he still terrified people. It was something about him, something in his make up, that seemed to make itself known to people even when he was being nice and friendly. In fact, he was scarier when he was being nice and friendly.
It occurred to her then that she could be doing far more interesting things with her life than mopping up after her brothers. This latest débâcle made her more determined than ever to get out of all this shit as soon as she possibly could.
She might even go and live in Liverpool. Leave them to get on with it. Go and live with Tommy Rifkind. Suddenly that seemed like a really good idea. Tommy was small potatoes really, though she would never say so to him, of course. She, for her part, had had more than enough of the upper echelons of crime.
‘Everything all right, Maura?’
Tony Dooley Junior was just being polite and she knew it.
‘Oh, yeah, Tony, everything is fucking wonderful, mate. Couldn’t be better in fact. Nothing like somebody dying of fright to make my fucking day.’
He decided that he’d best leave her alone with her thoughts. She looked angry and he had no intention of being on the wrong side of Maura Ryan when she had the hump. He had learned that very early on.
Maura ended up at her mother’s. Sarah had rung her and literally begged her to come by. Inside her childhood home, with a slice of home-made cake and a cup of tea in her hand, she marvelled at how healthy her mother was looking for her age. She also enjoyed the relative tranquillity. The house even smelled the same. The only thing missing was the underlying odour of damp boys, which had always prevailed when she was small. But the smell of baking, her mother’s lavender water and the mustiness of the carpets was the same.
‘So what can I do for you, Mum?’
Maura’s words were stilted. Together they had tried to build a few bridges but it was hard. Too much water had already passed under them.
‘It’s Carla. I am at me wit’s end with her.’
Maura was surprised; Carla was Sarah’s blue-eyed girl usually. But she had heard about the big row between them, though she did not mention it.
‘What about her?’
She kept her voice as neutral as she could.
‘She’s not right, and that Joey . . . Do you think he might be . . . a bit . . . you know?’
Maura was smiling at her mother’s obvious distress.
‘Gay?’
Sarah nodded.
‘I think we can safely assume that, Mum. If he ain’t I’d be surprised, the way he carries on.’
‘That is so terrible . . .’
Maura grinned, enjoying her mother’s discomfort.
‘Won’t be the first one in this family if he is, will he?’
Sarah’s eyes were slits now at what she saw as an insult, a slur on her children and their offspring. Maura was suddenly sorry for her; she was from another era, another fucking dimension in fact.
‘Look, Mum, things like that don’t matter any more. And that is how it should be. What people do in the privacy of their own homes is their business. As long as he is happy inside himself, what harm is there in it really?’
Sarah was getting annoyed now and it showed. Her skinny body bristled with annoyance.
‘It’s a sin against God for a start.’
‘Everything is a sin if you want it to be. Look, in the Bible it tells you that soothsayers, meaning mediums and people like that, are wicked, right? That they will tell you nine true things and the tenth thing will be a lie? It will be that one thing that will cause you all the trouble of your life. Remember that? Well, it doesn’t stop you and Pat Johnston going to the Spiritualist Church, does it? You still want to contact Michael and Dad and Anthony and Benny – and Uncle Tom Cobbley as well for all I know! Joey is what he is, and neither you nor no one else can change him. The Bible is two thousand years old, Mum. Things are different now and you have to change with the times.’
‘I don’t.’
The words were said the arrogant Ryan way, meaning that they were different from anyone else. Maura sighed.
‘Well, that is all I can say on the subject, Mum. Good luck to him is what I think. I hope he is happy, that’s the most important thing in life.’
Sarah heard the underlying sadness in her daughter’s words and instinctively hugged her tightly. Maura’s perfectly styled hair was crushed against her mother’s skinny chest and she loved it. She hugged her back, feeling the prickle of tears.
Sarah pushed her away in a jokey way and said, ‘I’ll make another cup of tea.’
Maura nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
‘I suppose you’re right enough about your man, Joey. I am a dinosaur really. I still want it all as it was. I want you all back small to when I was your world and this was your universe.’
Sarah held out her hands to indicate the kitchen. ‘When I could walk along the road with you all dressed for Mass and looking gorgeous and hold me head up to the world and say, ‘‘Look at my babies, aren’t they wonderful?’’’
‘That was a long time ago, Mum.’
Sarah looked sad.
‘I know that, love. But what happened to us? That is what I try and work out every night as I lie in me bed. I say me rosary and then I lie there and think of you all. You and Michael mostly. My lovely son and daughter, my first-born and my last, the two I wanted more than any of my other children. I wonder if it was a punishment because, God forgive me, the others I loved but you and him I adored. I absolutely adored you both.’
Maura knew she was telling the truth.
‘I’m still here, Mum, and I can’t believe Michael is far away from you. He loved you more than anyone else, you know that. Worshipped the ground you walked on.’
Sarah smiled smugly. Her eyes were sad and her voice strong as she said, ‘I know. I feel him at times, beside me. He wants me to be friends with you again. Wants us to be like we were, and I want it too. I miss you, Maura; I miss you like you would never believe. Even when I hated you, I loved you too. My last-born, my only girl.’
Maura could not help wondering cynically if this turnaround had anything to do with the fact her mother had fallen out with Carla big time, and with Janine dead and Sheila a long way away she needed a female to con
trol. Because that was what her mother did. With the best will in the world, she controlled people.
As she watched Sarah bustle around making the tea in her large expensive kitchen Maura felt a spark of the old affection for her nevertheless. She had buried too many of her children, and Maura had to remind herself how terrible that must feel. And she had lost them violently through a job they had all decided to make their own. A job of which Maura was now the prime exponent. The Queen of the London Underworld, the tabloids had called her, until the best lawyer money could buy had put a stop to it.
This sad little old woman had brought up her children and then buried half of them. How hard that must be. That was why she would never move from this house. It still echoed with all their voices and laughter. Maura once more felt the urge to cry. She saw her own baby in the bright orange washing-up bowl and closed her eyes to try and blot out the sight. But it was still there. On some level it was always there. All day, every day. So how must her mother have felt, burying children she had nursed against her breast, had fed, clothed and fought over? She’d taken them to school, helped them with Communion and Confirmation. And then, when her job was done and it was time for her to sit back and enjoy her offspring’s company, they had been violently murdered. Killed like rabid dogs by uncaring people who saw it as nothing personal, just a job that needed to be done.
She smiled wryly to herself. You are getting old, Ryan, old and sentimental. But was that really such a bad thing?
‘Gis’ another bit of your cake, Muvver. That was handsome.’
It was a childhood saying they’d all used and Sarah, hearing it, turned from the old butler’s sink and dissolved into tears. Those words told her that her daughter was finally home.
An hour later Maura left the house, her step lighter than it had been for years. The Mercedes was outside but Tony was nowhere to be seen. She rang his mobile. It was turned off. She felt the first prickle of fear then. Tony was a very trustworthy man; he would never voluntarily have left the car. Never. He knew his job and took pride in it.