The Good Life

by Martina Cole

  When the man sat down beside her she hadn’t even hesitated. She was willing to help bring Cain down in any way she could.

  Now that she knew there was big trouble coming to Cain and Jenny, she could not be happier. It was as if she had been waiting for this all her life. God Himself knew she had prayed for this, prayed for his downfall every night since he had left her for that tramp, and finally, finally, her dreams were coming true. It was sweet revenge. She was going to take away the Good Life he had given that whore, and that he had taken from her and her son.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Denny Gunn was amazed that someone he had thought of as a friend would actually come to his house and threaten him. It was outrageous, in fact, but when he told him so he laughed.

  Denny had liked Peter Parkes from the first time he had met him. So this was a big shock, especially the kicking he’d given him – surely he knew that he did not have to go that far? He was a paid up member of the IRA, for fuck’s sake. He was fucking royalty as far as fucking villainy was concerned, and here he was being hustled by a fucking berserk! It was the ultimate piss-take and he told him just that.

  Peter sighed in annoyance. ‘Look, Denny, this isn’t personal, mate. I’ve already tried to explain that. A lot of people think that Cain Moran and Johnny Mac have had too big a bite of the cherry. It’s time they were taken out to let everyone else have a piece.’

  There was a truth to that, but Denny believed that the current peace in London was better than in the old days where there were far too many factions vying for the same earn.

  ‘You can’t get away with this, Peter. Listen to me, mate.’

  Peter shrugged. ‘I don’t want to kill you. That wasn’t on the agenda. I’m just here to make sure you don’t fuck anything up. You think you’ve got the Irish? Well, so have I. This is all Lenny McAvoy’s doing, mate. He wants to break those fuckers’ hold on London and the North. So do I. Cain and Johnny Mac have run things for too long.’

  Denny Gunn felt like he was stuck in a nightmare. Lenny McAvoy was a Face in the Irish community, but he must have offered a really good deal for them to countenance this. Although, in fairness, Lenny was a big supporter of theirs. Liverpool and Manchester had big Irish communities. This would have taken a great deal of planning.

  Suddenly Denny felt a great sorrow for Cain and for Johnny Mac – they were gone no matter what. It was a shame, but it was life as they lived it. It was a brutal existence that spat you out as quickly as it raised you up.

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  Denny was fucked, he accepted that. He had to swallow his knob, wipe his mouth – it was the only thing he could do.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Cain and Johnny were taken as they left the club. No one would have believed how easy it had been. They were surrounded in the car park, and there was nothing they could do. They were convinced they were safe, invincible – neither of them had seen themselves to be vulnerable to treachery.

  It was as if they were written out of history in minutes and, in many ways, that is exactly what happened.

  They were transported to a warehouse in Slough that they had acquired many years before and forgotten about. Once they were there, it was as if the whole world had gone mad.

  When he woke up on that cold concrete floor, Cain remembered being beaten but, much worse, he remembered seeing Johnny shot to death, his body taking each bullet as the force of the ammunition blew him across the filthy flooring.

  And Cain remembered being shot himself. And what’s more, he knew who the perpetrator was, knew it was someone he had treated like family. But he was helpless. When he lost consciousness he had never expected to wake up.

  But against the odds he did. The old boy who was the nightwatchman had arrived late, but he had phoned the ambulance and the police. He had saved Cain’s life. But it had been far too late to help Johnny Mac.

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Jenny, Eileen and Molly were at the hospital. Cain Moran was hanging on by a thread. He had five bullets in him and a surgeon was operating but it didn’t look good. Johnny Mac was dead, and it looked like Cain would be joining him. Jenny was beside herself with worry and the fear of losing the man she loved more than life itself.

  After five hours in theatre, the surgeon came out and told them that if Cain lasted till the morning he was in with a chance. He was a strong man, and what was needed now was not just physical strength but mental strength too. Jenny was thrilled by the news. She was convinced that Cain had what was needed to stay on this earth, and she told the doctor that.

  It was while they were celebrating this that the Filth turned up. That was when the real trouble started.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Cain Moran had regained consciousness five days later and was promptly arrested for fraud and the murder of not just Johnny Mac but also Micky Two Fags, Jimmy Boy Banks and Richie Jakobs. Shane Dwyer was tacked on as a victim before the case got to the Old Bailey. He was, as Molly said, sewn up like a kipper. The big shock though was that the witness for the defence was Peter Parkes. He had the starring role.

  Jenny lost everything, and she could do nothing about it. The police had been quick to acquire any proceeds from the alleged crime. Cain Moran had been royally set up. He should have seen it coming but, like most people who thought they were at the top of their game, it had never occurred to him that anyone would tuck him up.

  Jenny had had the sense to keep cash hidden away; as Cain had explained to her over the years, you never knew what might happen and cash was cash, plain and simple. She had to leave their home, and everything in it except for her clothes and her photographs. It was as if someone had slammed a door on the life she knew and loved. But she didn’t care about anything except Cain.

  All Cain had cared about was that Johnny was dead. Losing the man he had loved like a brother had really affected him. He knew when he was beaten and he knew that he had to swallow his knob to guarantee Jenny and Cain Junior’s safety. He had been visited in hospital and the situation explained to him in graphic detail. He had his life – which was a result whatever way you looked at it – but if he wanted his loved ones to stay alive he had to do as requested.

  He had become too powerful and that was something that had had to be addressed. In his own way, he understood that too. Cain had no options left – if he had to go away without a fight for Cain Junior and Jenny he was willing to do just that. Every now and again life kicked you in the nuts. His life as he knew it was over; all that was left was the formality of the court hearing, and he had already known how that was going to turn out. It was a guaranteed guilty.

  The trial itself had been a showcase for the Metropolitan Police and it got great press coverage. Cain Moran’s picture was everywhere, and he was depicted as a brutal crime boss who ruled his empire with a violent and bloody hand. He was portrayed as the stuff of nightmares, and his every deed, real and imagined, was splashed across the papers and relished by the readers. His torture of prisoners was written in all its gory detail, and old Faces came to the fore once more with their own tales of Cain Moran’s derring-do. It was an abortion, but Cain could do no more than live with the consequences, and endure his trial day by day.

  He was escorted to the Old Bailey in a meat wagon with motorbike outriders and a stream of police cars; there were even police helicopters overhead. The jury were to be left in no doubt that this was a very dangerous man indeed.

  The judge had said in his summing up that Cain Moran was a particularly nasty character whose reign of fear and terror was thankfully over. The people of London could now sleep safely in their beds. He sentenced Cain Moran to twenty-five years behind the door. In other words, Cain would not be eligible for parole until he had served the twenty-five years. The papers once more had a field day, and Cain Moran had left the Old Bailey to go back to the Scrubs awaiting his time till he was dispensed to a maximum-security prison. He was treated well in the Scrubs by his fellow inmates, who we
re all aware that he was the victim of his own success.

  But Cain Moran had respect, and that was something no one could take away from him.

  He knew this was his life from now on and he swallowed down his hatred and his desire for revenge against the bastards who had brought him down for the sake of his Jenny and Cain.

  But when all the lights were out and the prison was dark and only the whispers and the clanking from the other cells could be heard, he put his pillow over his head and finally cried.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Jenny looked around and, satisfied that everything was tidy and clean, she turned off the lights in her kitchen and made her way to her bedroom, stopping only to make sure her son was asleep. Cain Junior was lying half out of his covers, and she gently put him back into bed and covered him up.

  This flat was small but it was in a decent block; Cain had seen to that and she was grateful to him. It was supposedly owned by a third party, but it was hers really and she had no mortgage on it. She also received compensation from Peter Parkes and that was the hardest to bear. That he had turned on Cain after all he had done for him – it just didn’t bear thinking about.

  The only good thing to come out of it, and what she consoled herself with every night, was the fact that now her son would grow up outside the world of villainy. That at least gave her some comfort.

  Molly had taken the turn of events very badly, as had Jenny’s own mother. Jenny, to all outward appearances, was stoic – at least in public anyway. Alone, she mourned for the man she loved more than her own life.

  But it was Caroline who had hurt Cain the most. She had stood in evidence against him accusing him of threatening her, beating her, dumping his child and forcing her to take part in different nefarious activities. It was well-planned and complete bullshit. To cap it all, she had finally signed the divorce papers, claiming she had no desire to be tied to a ‘violent criminal’ and that she would do everything to shield her son from such a father. Caroline had her five minutes in the spotlight and was given the opportunity to pay her husband back for leaving her for the woman he loved more. Of course, that was the one thing Caroline could never rewrite – he had loved her more. It was still eating away at Caroline like a cancer and Jenny was well aware it always would. That was at least small consolation for her – it was what had kept her going through these times.

  Jenny’s real fear was for Cain. He was looking at twenty-five years behind the door, and that was a long time. She was twenty-five now and she would be at least fifty by the time she could hold him once more in her arms. At least she was on the outside and could still have a life of sorts, but his would be a Grade-A, top-security existence. It would mean the police coming to her home after she had sent a photograph of herself in to prove that she was who she said she was. It would mean being searched and being treated like a criminal. It would mean twenty-five years of short visits and trying to keep some kind of life going for them even though they were so far apart. It would mean her son growing up knowing of his father’s incarceration, and only seeing him when the visiting orders allowed.

  She felt the sting of tears and hastily wiped them away. Whatever happened she was determined to keep her family together, and she would stand by her man. She had experienced the Good Life. Now it was time to pay the price – the price she had always believed would one day be demanded from them. Cain had laughed at her when she used to worry about it, but it had been true. You couldn’t have too much, it was wrong – it flew in the face of God. At least, that’s what she believed. And she knew that her priest did too.

  She had gone back to the church during the trial, and prayed to God for guidance. Molly had been pleased, she had always been a religious woman. Molly was so strong; she joked that Mary Magdalene had been a whore, so Jesus couldn’t be that against women of the horizontal persuasion. Against her better judgement, even Jenny had laughed at that one. Molly was such a firebrand, and she was glad she had her in her life. Jenny knew she was going to need her as the years wore on.

  She finally climbed into her bed and, as always, she had laid one of Cain’s shirts on the pillow beside her. She could still smell his scent and it gave her a great feeling of peace. It would be so long before they could lie side by side once more. She often tormented herself remembering him making love to her and how wonderful it had all been. It was strange that even when they had accused Cain of torture, of murder, of every heinous crime they could think of, she had never once doubted her love for him, even though she had believed some of it. That Cain had been a different man to the one who came home to her at night. Her Cain had been a loving and gentle man who adored her and adored his son. That would be the Cain she remembered, the man she would educate her son about. The man she would wait for and who would always be the love of her life.

  She pulled the shirt towards her and buried her nose in his smell. She felt the sting of hot tears at the waste of a life, and the waste of time before she could hold him again. Like Cain, she cried for what was, and what could have been. Like Cain, she wondered deep down if their love could survive all those years to come. It was a frightening thought, but she had to acknowledge it, even as she hated herself for a moment’s doubt. She was still a young woman, and that was something she couldn’t change, no matter how much she might want to.

  He had more or less told her to go and make another life for herself, that he would understand, but she couldn’t leave him. The idea frightened her. She shook the bad thoughts away, sat up in her bed and lit herself a cigarette. She smoked it in the darkness, listening to the traffic outside her window, picturing the man she loved alone, thinking about her just as she was thinking about him. He had given her the Good Life. And now she had to wait twenty-five years before she could have that Good Life given back to her.

  She cried once more.

  Book Three

  It’s the good life to be free

  And explore the unknown

  Like the heartaches when you learn

  You must face them alone

  ‘The Good Life’

  Music by Sacha Distel and lyrics by Jack Reardon

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  1998

  Prison was a strange place in many respects. The men who ended up there had only two choices: either get your head down and get through it, or fight the system for all you were worth. Cain Moran had decided on the former and it was working for him. He had enough creds to make sure he was left alone, and the circumstances of his sentencing were so outrageous that ninety-nine per cent of the villains incarcerated with him felt he had been done down. He had a natural ability to make people like him, and that was invaluable when you were banged up. It was a harsh regime, but he was managing; he lived day to day as that was the only way to really serve a big lump. It was the thought of his Jenny and Cain Junior that kept him going at his darkest moments.

  The sheer monotony was the worst, especially as it encouraged some of the men who were inclined towards creating excitement just for excitement’s sake. Slights were carefully nurtured and brooded on for weeks before a final violent showdown would be demanded. It was easy in prison to lose your life for something so trivial it was not even worthy of consideration. Imagined offences or a piece of dope going missing could become major battles between two people who normally got on like the proverbial house on fire.

  Cain was still in Parkhurst and he was on one of the two wings that held category prisoners. M Wing was the smaller of the two and Cain found it almost liveable, as they were out of their cells for most of the day. He was in there with a mixture of terrorists, murderers and high-stakes bank robbers. They even had a five-a-side football team which caused all sorts of rivalries. They had their own kitchen too and Cain was now an expert cook; he had found to his utter amazement that he actually liked to create meals for himself and, more often than not, he was serving up to the other men confined with him.

  Best of all he had his own cell; it was a luxury he didn’t take f
or granted − he had paid enough for it. He could read whenever he wanted, and the screw who was supposed to turn out the lights at 8 p.m. was well paid to keep them on until late in the evening. He had a good radio too and, like most lifers, he had become a devotee of Radio 4; it was educational as well as uplifting for the men inside.

  Cain Moran had made a life of sorts for himself despite the odds. He still had a lot of bird to do, but it was all about getting your head around the situation and making the best of it.

  Some of the men on big lumps had cut ties with their wives or girlfriends, believing that they would do their time easier without the worry of who was now doing the dirty with the woman they loved. It was a sad but inevitable fact of life for a lot of the men. They understood it was tough on the outside too. They just didn’t want to be the ones to be dumped by a woman who loved them and had their kids, but needed human touch on a daily basis. They couldn’t get that from an hourly visit in a room watched over not just by other prisoners but by the screws as well. It was a hard life for a woman whose husband was banged up; they suffered even though they had done nothing wrong.

  Jenny had been a star − she still loved him unconditionally. Cain wished that the British penal system was like the American one, where conjugal visits were encouraged to keep families together. He missed the feel of her and her touch more and more every day, and he knew she felt the same. At the back of Cain’s mind there was always the worry that she would be snapped up before he made it out. She was still a beautiful woman, and she was also a woman who needed loving, and needed that loving often. It was bittersweet to remember how much she had enjoyed their lovemaking, and how much he had enjoyed it too. The only thing he was glad of was the fact he had never once done the dirty on her. He had often quoted the old Paul Newman saying: ‘Why go out for a hamburger, when I can have a steak at home?’ He had really believed that and he still did. He wished he could have married her all those years ago when Cain Junior had been born. But Caroline had put paid to that. It had taken pulling a lot of strings, and a significant amount of time of ‘good behaviour’ but he finally had the green light to marry his Jenny and give her his name. That they would be married in the prison chapel wasn’t ideal, but it was something they both wanted more than anything. He pretended to the other inmates that it was all for her, but inside he was overjoyed he would have a legal claim on her finally.