by Martina Cole
‘I love you, girl, you know that. You’re my woman, the mother of my child, and you know that there ain’t no one who can compete with that.’
Imelda couldn’t answer him because, for the first time ever, she was convinced that he was lying to her.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
‘I want this Communion to be really great, Lena. Tania is our only daughter, and for the first time ever you can pick out a dress. With the boys it was so different, I know – just nice suits and shirts. But this time you get to go over the top! So I will leave you and Ria to sort it out.’
Daniel could sense the strained atmosphere between his wife and his sister-in-law because of the state of affairs between him and Peter, and he knew that his presence would not make it any easier. He needed Lena and Ria to be friends – it gave the illusion to the world that all was well with the Bailey brothers, even if people knew the real score.
As he left his house, he looked around him, and he saw the home he had provided as other people would see it. At the front door he paused and, turning round he looked at the hallway, saw the tired carpets and the grubby wallpaper. The kitchen door was open and he saw the old-fashioned units, as if for the first time. He wondered at Lena then; she had never really bothered about their surroundings – it was clean and cheerful but it was also dated and cheap. It had never bothered him before; now, though, he felt that his home should reflect him and his success, and a little bit of him resented Lena for never wanting that for herself. She still salted money away, and he had been grateful for her thriftiness in the past, God knew. But now he suddenly felt that his home should have been upgraded a long time ago to befit a man of his standing, and reflect his status.
Peter lived like a fucking king; he had always said that a house was an investment, and he had bought and sold many over the years, so that now he had a seriously big drum. Electric gates and the privacy that only money could buy. Daniel could easily have the same – he had enough legit businesses to cover any costs he incurred.
His mother’s words had penetrated and he was genuinely trying to look at the world through his sons’ eyes. They wanted him to toe the line, and he was trying desperately to do just that; it was fucking hard going if he was honest. But he was determined to keep a low profile as such, and listen to the boys’ advice and, by doing so, he hoped to eventually fit in with the rest of his so-called peers. He’d cut down on the drugs for a start – he still did the odd line but he felt like he had a clearer head now.
Shutting his front door gently behind him, he decided that he was going to upgrade his living accommodation and his transport. He would also accept the boys’ advice on getting new offices – though he would still keep his scrapyard. He would never relinquish those premises for anybody; not only were they ideal for certain types of meetings, but he also knew that he would need a bolt hole from time to time.
As he sat in his car, he looked up at his house, his home, where he had been very happy and contented, and he wondered at how he had never noticed before just how scruffy and unkempt it actually was. No wonder people didn’t see him like they did his brother Peter – he must have looked like the poor relation, even though he had earned just as much as his brother.
It had never bothered him before; like Lena, he had never craved the trappings of wealth. Now, though, he finally understood the psychological advantage of being seen as a person who earned a good living. People saw what you had and they then saw you as successful and, because of that, they believed that they could earn through you; they trusted you because you already had what they wanted.
He sighed, wondering why it had taken him so fucking long to understand the Life he was involved in. He was annoyed with himself; he didn’t have the nous to see things in the same way other people did – he accepted that, and now he was willing to listen to other people. He was determined to address the problem even though, in all honesty, he was finding it very hard.
He started the car and, as he pulled away from his house, he hoped against hope that he could keep a lid on his temper, and that he could keep up with this new way of life. He was certain of only one thing – that his little Tania would grow up in a home that befitted her, and his Lena was going to have to get onboard, whether she liked it or not.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
‘I’m telling you, Petey, it’s like he’s had a personality transplant. You can assure your dad that we are keeping him sweet.’ Danny could hardly believe it himself.
Petey laughed. ‘It’s mad, ain’t it? I keep hearing good things about you all! My old man is amazed at your dad’s transformation. He’s pleased, obviously, but he is also a bit sceptical, you know.’
Danny swallowed his anger; he could see first hand that his father was really trying to work with them, and he knew just how hard it was for him.
Petey Bailey, his cousin, who he loved dearly, was arsehole-lucky that he had a father who was not a fucking hair’s breadth away from the nuthouse. But they had to work together; the fact that they were the go-betweens for their old men was as important as it was sad. That was the way it was, and there was nothing they could do about it.
‘I told you I would keep him in check, and I am. Now, what’s the score with the new clubs? I know we talked about coming into Essex next, and I have just the place actually. It’s as cheap as chips – the bloke who owned it fucking slung most of his profits up his nose. He is a complete cunt. He also owes a big amount of wedge to us and, as luck would have it, he now owes a fair amount to Davey. I got Davey to offer him an out, so he gave him enough money to cover the interest on his original loan, that means now, of course, he has two loans that he can’t pay. It’s just a matter of assuring him that we will forgo the debts if he signs the premises over to us. He will be glad to get shot, I think. He made the cardinal mistake: he opened a club and saw it as his personal hangout, not as a business. It was only a matter of time before he fucked up.’
Petey smiled; he loved Danny’s knack of sniffing out a bargain. ‘Sounds good to me! Bailey Enterprises are on the up, eh? Where’s this place located?’
Danny lit a cigarette and, taking a deep pull on it, he said nonchalantly, ‘Ilford High Street. Used to be Colin Farmer’s drum, now it’s ours. Run properly it could be a gold mine.’
Petey was impressed; Colin Farmer came from a good family – they would have bailed him out if he had asked them to. Evidently Danny had convinced Colin otherwise, and he wondered what he had used to lean on him. It had to be something big – much more than the debts alone.
Danny could almost hear his cousin’s brain crunching as he tried to work out the score, and he grinned, deciding to let him in on the secret. ‘I pointed out that his coke habit was not something his family would embrace, and that his penchant for young boys might cause a few raised eyebrows.’
Petey was absolutely gobsmacked and his cousin’s amazement pleased Danny no end.
‘I gave him an ultimatum, so to speak, while he was getting a blow job in the front of his car from a fifteen-year-old Asian kid – not that I have told any of my brothers that, and I expect you to keep it to yourself as well. It will come out eventually, that kind of thing always does, and it is best we have nothing to do with it whatsoever. I have given him my word that I’ll keep schtum, and I will honour that.’
Petey Bailey was still reeling. Colin Farmer was a ladies’ man – he played the part of the womaniser with gusto. Peter had never had an inkling that the man might be an iron hoof. ‘That is fucking unbelievable! How did you find out? His old man would go fucking spare.’
Danny shrugged. ‘A little bird told me!’ He had no intention of letting on that he had a network of people on his payroll whose only job was to find out anything and everything about anyone and everyone in their world, including his close family, and their cohorts. Knowledge was power, and he knew the value of secrets. He also knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that one day the knowledge he was so patiently gathering would be worth more to him than
money alone.
Petey was thrilled that his cousin had got them such a bargain. Like his brothers and his cousins, he was weary of the situation between their fathers, but they knew they had to work around it, and they were doing a pretty good job. They had the family businesses, and they had their separate businesses; somehow they made it all work.
Danny poured them both a large brandy and, saluting his cousin, he said happily, ‘To us, cuz, onwards and upwards.’
Petey clinked glasses with him. ‘That sounds fucking good to me, mate!’ Then he laughed again, his huge head shaking with mirth. ‘I can’t get over it! Colin Farmer, a fucking shirt lifter!’
Daniel looked at his cousin then and said seriously, ‘Petey, he’s a fucking nonce. The boy was a fucking schoolkid, he was barely fifteen.’
Petey digested that information slowly before saying, ‘Fuck me, you’re right. That’s fucking gross.’
Danny shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Tell me about it, Petey, but it will all come out in the wash. Until then, the fucker’s mine.’ Danny drank his brandy, savouring every sip, safe in the knowledge that he now owned Colin Farmer lock, stock and fucking barrel. And, before he was finished, he would own a lot more people. He was his father’s eldest son; it was down to him to bring back some kind of respect and admiration for their side of the Bailey family, and he was going to make sure that happened. They were not going to be perceived as second best any more. All his life he had watched his father go his own very strange and very peculiar road, and he had realised early on that it had not gained them anything of any real value. His father, unfortunately, was a man of extreme but random violence – not something that was seen as a drawback in their world normally. But Danny understood that his father’s complete disregard for the moral codes that they lived by, and his inability to see his actions as anything other than justified, had caused them serious problems. His Uncle Peter had ensured that his father’s more outrageous escapades had been overlooked, but they were still remembered.
Well, now he and his brothers were grown up, and they were not going to stand by and play second fiddle to anyone; he was working day and night to make sure that the sons of Daniel Bailey were seen as trustworthy and, more to the point, as men in their own right. Petey Bailey and his brothers had nothing to prove, and Danny was pleased for them, but he and his brothers had to work twice as hard to prove their worth. They were willing to do that, to bring a good wedge to the table, and show their Uncle Peter that they were more than capable of scratching a good living. And, unlike their cousins, they would achieve it against the odds.
Petey Bailey watched his cousin as he rolled a joint, and he wondered at what it must be like to live in the shadow of a father like his Uncle Daniel – a bona fide fucking nut-job. Petey loved his cousin; he felt sorry for him, because he had a lot to live down, but he was confident that Danny was well able to do the job. And whatever Daniel Bailey Senior was, he was still a man who could terrify the average man on the street. He was still one of the Bailey brothers, and that counted for a lot in their world.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Lena was delighted with her daughter’s Communion dress – it was absolutely beautiful. She was glad that she had let Ria help her with the choice. She felt that Ria had much better taste than her, and would know what material was suitable, and what style would suit Tania; she had a knack for all that. As Lena looked at the finished article, she was absolutely beside herself with happiness. It wasn’t simply a dress, it was a gown! The sleeves alone were a work of art, all hand-stitched, and screaming class. Oh, she was so excited about the Communion now. Not that she hadn’t been before; after all, it was not a fashion parade – it was a very serious event. Her daughter would be making her First Confession, and partaking of the Holy Eucharist for the first time. Lena blessed herself quickly at the thought.
Even so, she could not stop looking at her daughter’s dress, and admiring it from every angle. Having a girl meant you could really push the boat out – even the poorest of the families did. Holy Communion was a big event in the Church, and in a child’s life. Her Tania would be the most gorgeous child there this year, of that much she was sure.
Lena’s big worry was not about the ceremony itself, but about the party they were putting on afterwards at the Shandon Bells, for Tania and Delroy Junior. Peter and Daniel would be properly in the same room for the first time since the ‘big falling out’ as she called it. She was desperate to make sure that nothing happened to ruin the children’s big day. She was relieved that things were back to normal between her and Theresa – that was one less worry anyway.
Tania came into her mother’s bedroom, smiling widely; she adored the dress almost as much as her mummy did. She was desperate to wear it and the accessories they had chosen. There was a small diamante tiara that would hold her veil in place, and a mother-of-pearl Bible that she would hold in her hands – hands that would be covered by white lacy gloves. She was going to look like a princess! She hugged her mother, and they stood together admiring the dress in silence.
Daniel walked into the bedroom, and when both of his girls turned towards him he saw the happiness on their faces. Grinning, he said jokily, ‘Is this the dress, then? I thought it would be delivered by the fairies! It looks like a fairy dress.’
Tania was excited already, but her dad’s praise was all she needed. ‘Do you love it, Dad? I love it.’
He picked her up and hugged her to him. ‘I think it is the nicest dress I have ever seen, sweetheart.’
Tania beamed with happiness.
‘It is lovely, Daniel, even if I say it myself. She will be the best dressed there, I know that for a fact.’
Daniel was pleased to hear Lena; he wanted his daughter to be dressed as he saw fit. She was a good-looking child, and he wanted her to be perceived as he felt a daughter of his should be – well dressed and a cut above the other kids. He remembered Imelda’s Communion years before; Ria had decked her out like a fucking society bride. Peter had told him the price of the dress and, at the time, he had thought they were fucking mad to pay that much for a child’s outfit – an outfit that she would only wear once at that. Now, though, he could understand it. A girl was a different kettle of fish when it came to these occasions – they were special because they could be dressed up like miniature brides.
He would make sure that his daughter, his only daughter, would look expensive and classy if it was the last thing he did. He was learning, at this late stage, how to play the game and he was determined to play it better than everyone else.
‘Who wants to hear my good news, then?’
Tania hugged his neck tightly and squealed, ‘I do, Daddy! Tell me!’
Lena was smiling happily; she assumed it was about the Communion, it being all she thought about these days.
‘I have bought us a new house. A big detached house, and you, my princess, will have your own bathroom! What do you think of that?’
Tania was not sure what to think, and it showed. Laughing loudly, Daniel hugged her once more. ‘You will be able to have a bath in your very own bathroom!’
‘Really, Daddy? My own bath, just for me?’
‘Your own bath, princess, nothing is too good for you!’
Lena was watching him warily now. ‘You’ve bought a house without telling me?’
Placing his daughter on the floor, Daniel nodded. ‘Yes, I have, Lena, and not before time. We have the money and I want this little one to have everything we can give her.’
It was the right approach and he knew it. Lena would move heaven and earth for her daughter, she would gladly move if it meant Tania would get the benefit. He wondered how they had coped with the boys in such a small space. But, then again, he hadn’t cared in those days, one way or the other.
Chapter Sixty
Tommy Barker was very happy with Theresa – she suited him perfectly. His mother was Irish, and his father had been Scottish, so he had been brought up with the best of Catholic intentions and,
as big a rogue as he had eventually become, he had never really left his Catholic upbringing behind.
Seeing Theresa so excited about her granddaughter’s Communion was something he had never thought would affect him so much, but it had, and he was looking forward to it as much as she was.
Theresa Bailey was a bit of a girl – there was no doubt about that! He had known her many years ago, and he had admired her then for the way she had worked for her boys, and shrugged off the stigma not only of having two children out of wedlock, but of having a child of colour into the bargain. In their day that had taken a lot of guts, and she had more guts than most of the men he knew. She had been devoted to her boys, which had been apparent to anyone who knew her, and she had never apologised for either of them. He had a sneaking feeling, though, that these days she felt the strain of her younger son more than she let on.
Daniel Bailey, the slippery little fucker, was trying to elbow his way into his affairs, and he was not sure if he was pleased about that or not. A part of him was amenable to letting a younger man take on some of the responsibility – Tommy was not as driven as he had been years ago. But Tommy was in a unique position as the mastermind behind his earn – he laundered money for anyone who was anyone. He could take ill-gotten gains and make them into legal money with the least amount of fuss. That was his forte, and he had a niche in the market. He didn’t have a lot of people in his employ, but those he did have, he trusted implicitly. Handpicked, they were aware of the risks involved, which, although minimal thanks to his forward planning, were still dangerous enough to give the average person food for thought. It was a delicate and intricate business, needing a steady hand and, more importantly, someone who understood economics – of both the global and the criminal variety.