by Martina Cole
Garry lay next to Leonie, smiling. She was worth ten grand of anybody’s money as far as he was concerned. He had just spent the best hour of his life, and the funny thing was, so had Leonie. She was amazed to experience her first real orgasm without the aid of her hand or a vibrator. She snuggled into Garry’s arms and he hugged her.
Like Vic Joliff before him, he had met the one woman he really connected with and Leonie likewise had met the man of her dreams. It wasn’t a phoney fuck and they both knew it and basked in the knowledge.
‘I know you won’t believe this, Garry, but I have never felt like this before.’
He smiled happily.
‘I ain’t either, Leonie.’
They didn’t talk again for a while, just lay together quietly. Then she said, ‘Fancy a cup of tea?’
He nodded happily.
‘Just what I wanted, girl.’
She got up and he admired her neat little bod as she skipped happily from the room. He saw her suitcase open on the floor and smiled again. Jack Stern’s reaction to her now trumping Garry Ryan would be the icing on the cake as far as he was concerned. Then he noticed a scrap of paper among the underwear and smellies. He got off the bed and picked it up, read it quickly and then shoved it into his trouser pocket. She had inadvertently given him exactly what he wanted in more ways than one.
Leonie came back into the room with two mugs of tea and a plate of hot buttered toast. He decided he would move her into his flat within the week. Fuck his other birds, this was practically love. Or as near as Garry Ryan would ever get to it anyway.
Maura met Joss Campion back at her house. She felt sorry for him. She had always liked Joss.
‘He don’t mean it, Maura. That’s the worst of it. He just can’t help himself. Gina understood that, see. She knew he was a born womaniser.’
Maura didn’t answer him, just sat and listened and sipped at her glass of Scotch. She knew that Joss felt genuinely bad about what had happened. As they were sitting together she was not surprised to see Patrick O’Loughlin come unannounced into her lounge. But she could tell Joss was.
He shook his head sadly. She knew he was sorry about it all.
‘I know, Joss. I know everything now.’
‘No, you don’t, Maura.’ He looked at Patrick and said in a strong voice, ‘Are you going to tell her or am I?’
Patrick sighed, a small heavy-set man with a shock of dark hair and fathomless eyes.
He was on the Ten Most Wanted list since he had left his cronies and become part of the Real IRA. He had no time for the Good Friday agreement, he wanted the mayhem to carry on. He also carried out arms deals and other nefarious bits of business, which was what had first brought Vic to his attention.
‘I’ll tell her, man. But first, isn’t that Tommy the fecking eejit?’
Joss nodded.
‘Tell me something I don’t know.’
Patrick laughed. He liked this funny giant of a man with the rugged countenance.
‘You’re a good man, Joss.’
Maura sighed heavily.
‘Can we skip the mutual backslapping and get down to business?’
‘It’s a hard woman you are, Maura Ryan.’
She laughed dryly.
‘Must be the Irish in me, eh?’
Chapter Fifteen
Garry was happy, or as happy as Garry Ryan could ever be. He had a new toy and Leonie would sparkle for him now as other women had in the past. He owned people as opposed to went out with them. Leonie for her part was quite happy to be owned and he sensed this about her. As long as she had readies and kudos she was happy; he knew he could supply her with both on a very grand scale. On top of it all, she had given him an insight into Vic’s whereabouts and for that he would be forever grateful.
He was whistling through his teeth as he drove into Chigwell High Street. If all went well, Vic could be history by the weekend and he could be winging his way to Marbella with Leonie. The possibilities of her lithe little body and sexual acrobatics in the sun were endless. He liked the overweight sort normally, they were grateful for his attention as far as he could see. He liked to be in charge of them, liked making them dependent on him. Now, suddenly, he was in love and it felt good. Leonie was like him, they were kindred spirits, and he’d never dreamed that it could happen to him. At his time of life he had thought romance and love were for other people, and now he had been proved wrong by a little bird from Romford with dreams of the big time and tits that could stop traffic on the M25.
He was smiling as he drove into Verderers Road a short time later.
Abul and Benny were eating a large evening fry up in the Rosina Café in Essex on the A13. The road was permanently busy and the café was positioned in a prime location that was perfect for lorry drivers. It was also a suitably anonymous place for handovers and pick-ups. Unlike the Granada services at West Thurrock it didn’t have a reputation for drugs or handguns. This was the perfect place for a low-profile meal and a chat, especially if you needed to meet with a Northerner, Dutchman or German. The truck stop supplied plenty of cover.
So as they ate and chatted they kept an eye out for numerous friends and acquaintances they had made over the years. They were due a pick-up of guns but this was also a fishing expedition. They both hoped they would get a bite before the day was out.
Maura and Patrick were laughing together and Joss marvelled at her powers of resilience. Most women would have been devastated by the events of the last few months, and Tommy’s betrayal on top of it all would have left another woman on the ground. Yet here she was acting as if everything was normal. But then, when you thought of Maura’s life, what would she class as normal? Tommy had said she was hard to get really close to and Joss could believe that, but he also understood why she was like that. His own father had been a Scally, a hard man who had lived his life to the full. Joss had half-brothers and sisters his mother had no knowledge of, to whom he talked but had no real feelings for. He knew what it was like to live your life behind a mask. To have to keep secrets that could cause untold damage to too many people. To shoulder the burden of making a living for your family while trying to have a life of your own. Maura had done all that and more because, though they didn’t acknowledge it, it was she who kept them out of prison and who controlled their every move. Though how much longer she could control Benny Ryan was the question in everyone’s mind.
He hoped that his oldest friend Tommy Rifkind saw the Ryans coming for him, because they would. If only for what had happened with Maura and Carla, they would come for him and for the first time in years Joss would not be there to help him out. For the first time ever he was taking a back seat and leaving Tommy to sort things out on his own. And not before time. Tommy needed a wake-up call. Maybe this would be it. It might teach him a lesson he would never forget. If he lived long enough, of course. Which Joss very much doubted.
Patrick and Maura were finally alone. Sipping Scotch, they watched one another warily.
‘Was it Tommy on his own?’
Patrick shook his head.
‘Nah, he’s working side by side with Vic, Maura. Probably some others but I only met those two. I couldn’t say too much in front of Joss, as you’ll understand. Tommy doesn’t know we’ve tumbled that as yet. Joss might not know everything that’s gone on. Stands to reason Tommy will keep a lot close to his chest. He’s at a stage where he can’t trust anybody.’
Maura digested this bit of information, feeling her face burn with embarrassment. Patrick ran his hands through his hair.
‘It happens, Maura. We all get betrayed in the end. And when it’s by people we love it’s harder to accept. Didn’t my own mother try and turn me in once?’
Maura sighed.
‘Been there, done that.’
He smiled.
‘I remember. Over the fecking eejit Geoffrey. We never wanted to harm Michael, you know. It was just business.’
She nodded.
‘I accepted that a long time a
go. I didn’t really have much choice, did I?’
‘You’ve lost a lot of people, haven’t you? Brothers, Terry Petherick, now your niece.’
She stared into his eyes coldly.
‘As you have, Pat.’
He nodded once more and finished his Scotch.
‘Me mother died, you know, a few years ago. I went to see her in the hospital; I was on the run at the time. Had everyone after me in them days. But in I went, bold as brass. She opened her eyes and told me that she couldn’t wait to die so she would never have to look at me again. Called me a murdering bastard. Always had a nice turn of phrase, my mother.’
The bitterness was evident in his voice and Maura felt a moment’s sorrow for him.
‘Fucking mothers, who’d have them?’
He laughed loudly.
‘Well, none of us would be here without them, girl, that’s for sure. We spend our whole life trying to please them and we know that no matter what we do it will never be enough. We all disappoint our parents – it’s a genetic thing, I think.’
Maura didn’t answer him; she poured herself another drink instead.
‘You know all about disappointment, don’t you, Maura?’
She lay back on the sofa and held the cold glass to her forehead.
‘What am I going to do, Patrick? This will all explode soon and I don’t want any more violence.’
He shrugged and sat down on the sofa, putting her feet on to his lap.
‘You are going to get it, Maura. Nothing you can do about that. Garry will lose it when he finds out – he never liked Tommy anyway. Everyone knows that.’
Maura smiled.
‘Garry doesn’t like anyone. He can’t. It’s not in his make up.’
‘He loves you, Maura.’
She shook her head. The Scotch had just kicked in and she knew she should stop drinking; she also knew she wouldn’t, couldn’t, not just yet. She was still feeling too raw. It wasn’t just Carla, it was the Vic/Tommy connection. She should have guessed, should have known, but he had played it so well, she would give him that much. Tommy was a womaniser, she’d accepted that, but she had not known he was also a two-faced, conniving, lying ponce who would betray her whole family. That was what really hurt. She had brought this traitor to their door and now she would have to sort it out. She wondered who else knew about it all. Once it was common knowledge her humiliation would be complete. Maura Ryan not only cuckolded by a Scally, but he had tucked the boys up as well.
‘Garry doesn’t love so much as respect or own. That’s his secret, why he gets on like he does. He really doesn’t care a fuck what anyone thinks of him.’
Patrick nodded.
‘That will always be his strength.’
‘How long have you known about Vic and Tommy?’
He sat back and sighed.
‘Six years. Rifkind was in with Vic, Maura, when you went to Liverpool to dispose of his boy. Tommy Senior was the missing piece you were looking for all the time. Vic hasn’t told you for his own reasons. I assume he was just waiting for Tommy to foul his nest and, be fair, he didn’t have to wait long, did he?’
She was speechless for a few moments.
‘How come you know so much about it?’ she finally asked.
‘Vic approached us for help as you know, but between you and me we have no interest. Drugs aren’t our forte, even though he had a good deal to offer, I’ll say that for him. But we fought for a free Ireland; the last thing we want now is a drugged up Ireland. Drugs are already a big problem in Dublin and Belfast and they’re spreading all over the fecking place. Vic picked on the wrong people. He should have known better. We would never let it happen.’
Maura was sobering up rapidly.
‘Are you telling me you’re out for Vic as well?’
He nodded, a half-smile on his face.
‘My old mother used to say something about weaving webs to deceive. Remember that old potato? Poor old Vic still thinks we’re best buddies from our Belmarsh days. We’ll let him think it a little while longer.’
Maura nodded.
‘Are you going to take him out?’
‘No. That little job, Maura, is all yours.’
‘Thanks a lot.’
‘It’s why I’m here. As soon as you knew the score we knew we could leave it in your hands. We can’t be implicated in anything like this, not at this delicate time. Let’s just say that when it’s over, we’ll owe you a big favour, eh?’
She laughed heavily.
‘A fucking big favour, you mean.’
Patrick shrugged, and squeezing her feet gently, answered, ‘Whatever you say.’
‘You Irish always like to get someone else to do your dirty work.’
He grinned.
‘Of course. The English have been getting others to do theirs for years – it was bound to rub off. You don’t have a dog, Maura Ryan, and bark yourself.’
Even she laughed at the droll expression on his face. But he had reminded her of how dangerous his henchmen could be and the thought sobered her. They finished their drinks in silence.
Nellie Joliff was a small woman, under five foot tall and dangerously obese. She looked, as many people had remarked, like Vic in drag. She was an old East Ender and proud of it, used all the old expressions and lived up to the reputation she had garnered as Old Mother Joliff, Mad Vic’s mum.
She had visited him all over the country when he was banged up and had helped younger women come to terms with their plight when a long sentence seemed too much for them to cope with. She was a kind person in her way and was known to help out anyone who needed it. She was also a chatterbox and consequently Vic never told her anything he did not want repeated around the streets and the local pubs.
She was now staying at her sister’s little house in Chigwell and it was killing her. She wanted to go back to Majorca soon, because Vic was on the run again, and she missed all her old cronies and her own little house there. Life with her hard of hearing Bible-bashing sister was getting her down. So when she saw Garry Ryan on the doorstep she smiled a wide smile and thanked God for the diversion he provided.
‘Hello, Mrs Joliff, is Vic around?’
Garry was talking to her with just the right amount of respect and the right tone in his voice. He sounded like a geriatric schoolboy and Nellie Joliff loved it.
‘Come on in, love.’
She opened the door wide.
Garry stepped inside, smiling. It was so easy if you knew how to play Vic’s little game. Five minutes later he had a mug of tea in his hand and was being told numerous stories of her son’s new life in Majorca. He was still smiling when he left an hour later, a very happy man.
See how Vic liked his family becoming involved in his shit. It might teach him a valuable lesson.
Benny and Abul brought the heavy package into the house in Lancaster Road. Sarah made them both tea as they unpacked it in the garden. The package contained four Armalites and they had to stop themselves from dragging them out of the box and playing with them like they had when they were boys and the guns had been pretend.
‘Fucking look at them, eh, Abul. What a touch.’
Benny had reverence in his voice and Abul, feeling the same, nodded at him.
‘Fucking business or what?’
They giggled together and Sarah watched them from the kitchen window. They reminded her of Michael and Geoffrey. Michael had always been the leader and Geoffrey the natural follower. Benny was like his uncle that way, had to be the top dog, the important one in the relationship.
These two had been friends since boyhood and Sarah knew that they would be friends until they died; she forced herself not to wonder when that would be. Benny was her baby, had always been the apple of her eye, but as she watched him now with Abul she was reminded again what a dangerous little fucker he was. He had had every advantage, unlike her own children, and even the death of his poor mother had not really affected him. Yet Janine had been shot to death on her own doo
rstep because of her family’s activities and so-called businesses.
It had not changed Benny, nor made him re-evaluate his life. He was a Ryan pure and simple, and she was responsible for them all. She saw that now as clear as day and knew she had to accept them all for what they were. Benny looked up at that moment and caught her eye. He winked at her and smiled and she felt as if the sun had come through a dark cloud. He was like her Michael all right. No matter what he did she would forgive him.
‘When we going to do it, Benny?’
He grinned once more.
‘Soon as Maura gives the word.’
‘What’s happening with all the coke?’
Benny shrugged.
‘Who knows? Maura will sort it, Abul. Stop asking fucking stupid questions. Why do you always question me about everything?’
He was having one of his lightning changes of mood and his best mate knew when to leave well alone.
Justin Joliff was fifty years old and he was big. Like his mother he was heavy-set and enjoyed his food. Like his brother he was a mean enemy and an even meaner businessman. But he was a coward, had hidden behind Vic all his life and lived in his brother’s shadow and on his reputation. It was Vic who stopped people smacking Justin one, and the worst thing was that Justin himself knew that. This only added to his absolute hatred of everyone and anyone who came near or by him. He was also a womaniser who had trouble getting one woman let alone a string of them, but it didn’t stop him from trying his luck with every sort who walked his way. Even the lap dancers at his favourite club charged him double what they charged anyone else and that was only after they had tried to avoid him, something they did frequently and with as much aplomb as they could considering how they were dressed.
His mum loved him, but not as much as she loved Vic. He knew it, Vic knew it, and their mother Nellie was open about it. All in all Justin was a fucked-up human being with an attitude matched only by Attila the Hun. So when he answered the door to his large villa outside Santa Ponsa he was already scowling. He scowled even harder when a shotgun was shoved into his numerous chins, forcing his head back as far as it would go and straining the muscles.