by Martina Cole
At least tonight was nearly over; then all he had to do was get through the wedding. Bernadette had wanted a registry office do, and then a party in a posh hotel. Well, Petey Bailey had thwarted her there, and that was how it should be. Fancy turning her nose up at the church where she had worshipped all her life! Just more of her snobbery.
If only she could see herself as everyone else saw her. Tonight she was wearing a tight mini dress, off-white, or ecru as she insisted on calling it. It only fit where it touched and, along with the fake tan, the overabundance of bleached-blond hair, and nails that looked like they had been grown in a greenhouse in Eastern Europe, she looked every bit the poor man’s Pamela Anderson. She had about as much class as a fucking Ford Fiesta. Not that she would ever see that, of course – thanks to her mother, she believed she was a cut above. He swallowed down his Chivas Regal, and made his way towards the bar for a refill.
‘You all right, Michael?’ Peter Bailey was genuinely pleased to see his daughter-in-law-to-be’s father.
Michael O’Toole smiled. ‘Yeah, it’s a grand party, Peter, really lovely. You’ve done her proud.’
‘To be honest, I think this is a bit over the top, but that’s kids these days – though my Petey is not a kid any more, not by anyone’s standards! He’s weighing out for this lot. I told him – you and her want a fucking circus, you can provide one.’
Michael O’Toole relaxed then, relieved that this man was not paying for his daughter’s engagement, and grateful that Peter saw his point of view on the matter. ‘I offered, Peter, but she blew me out. Not good enough these days it seems . . .’
Peter heard the bitterness in Michael’s voice. ‘Fucking kids, ungrateful the lot of them. Anyway, I was wondering if you were available for a spot of lunch this week? Go somewhere we can talk, you know? I have a bit of work I thought I might put your way.’
Michael O’Toole hesitated for only a few seconds before replying easily, ‘Sounds good to me, mate.’
Peter smiled, he understood how Michael was feeling; he was clearly a man who had a lot of pride, and that was a trait Peter respected. One good thing about this Bernadette debacle was at least her family weren’t expecting to jump on the bandwagon.
Chapter Ninety-One
Davey, Noel and Jamsie had escaped to the garden when the party was in full swing. They were smoking a joint, and enjoying the night.
‘That is a puff and a half, Jamsie! Where’d you get it?’
Jamsie grinned. ‘Delroy won’t like it, but I got it off a young lad in Tulse Hill. I heard about him from one of the strippers. He’s a good kid – only twenty-two, and already he has a serious fucking clientele. I’m going to offer him an in, we need to know where he is scoring this gear.’
Davey laughed. ‘Fucking right and all! This is amazing. I love it when we find a new avenue, you know? Keeps everything nice and under control. There are so many youngsters out there looking for a new bit of scratch.’
‘Well, we can only give him a chance; if he knows what is good for him, he will snatch our hand off. But he seems pretty cool – from what I’ve heard he has a good little rep. Only problem is, he thinks he’s a gangster! Fucking morons – they listen to a few rap records and think they are fucking hard men. If only it was that easy!’
They all laughed then.
‘What’s the score with the Allen family? Uncle Peter invited them tonight, but neither him or Dad have really given them the time of day.’ Davey sounded troubled about it.
Noel shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but I would assume it’s serious. They are the nearest thing we have to rivals, after all. I expect the old men have put the brakes on something they want to do. Dad had the arse with them a while back, I know, because I was there when he bawled Terrence Allen out. Dad was fucking fuming.’
Davey and Jamsie shrugged.
‘Well, it’ll all come out in the wash; it always does.’
Noel Bailey nodded, but he had a feeling this was far more serious than any of them suspected.
Chapter Ninety-Two
Daniel Bailey watched Terrence Allen as he talked, and, boy, could Terry Allen talk when the fancy took him! Years ago they had called him Terry the Tarpaulin because he had a reputation for making people disappear; when they finally turned up they were wrapped in an old tarpaulin. It was Terry’s signature; no one could prove it was him, but the people in the know had their suspicions.
Now Daniel Bailey observed as Terry held court. He was a good-looking man, well into his forties, but with a fine head of dark brown hair, and lively blue eyes. Like them, he had an Irish ancestry, and like them he was proud of it. Although, unlike Daniel and his brother Peter, Terry knew who his father was. Tony Allen had been a real force in his day; he had died in prison of liver failure a few years previously, seventeen years into a thirty-year stretch. Prison hootch was a fucking killer. The lads had buried him with the required pomp and ceremony that denoted his standing in the criminal community, and then quietly taken over his role along with his businesses. They had done a good job as well, no one could deny that.
But they were getting a bit too big for their boots. They had been particularly disrespectful about the Baileys, and that had come to Peter’s attention on more than one occasion. The Allens were beginning to think that they were above being rebuked by the very people who gave them their earn. Both Daniel and Peter were aware of that, and knew that the Allens had to be cut down to size before it got too far out of hand.
People like the Allens were dangerous; they were intelligent enough to plan a coup, hard enough to carry it out, but not patient enough to bide their time. They had fucked themselves with their own hubris, because they had underestimated the Baileys’ reach. The Allens had not foreseen just how many people were loyal to the Baileys, and depended on them for their earn as they had for many years. These were the same people who had no qualms about putting the word into the appropriate ear when they deemed it necessary.
Now the Allens had to be reprimanded – and publicly. They were a real handful, and that was the problem. Both Daniel and Peter were agreed that they were not men to overlook, and definitely not men who you gave any kind of leeway. If they managed to recruit other families they could then become more powerful. The fact that they were the main providers of recreational drugs this side of the Watford Gap was enough to make sure they were taken seriously as a threat.
Daniel saw his brother watching Terry Allen as he mocked the people around him; in his exuberance at telling his story he was slopping drink everywhere, with complete disrespect for Peter Bailey’s home. Catching his brother’s eye, Daniel Bailey winked at him mischievously, looking forward to taking Terry down a peg or two.
Terry Allen knew very well that his antics and foul-mouthed joking were being observed and, looking at his brother Billy, he said loudly, ‘Get us another drink, Billy Boy, I feel a real bastard of a thirst coming on.’
Billy Allen grinned. He knew as well as Terry did that Peter and Daniel Bailey would not appreciate cursing at their little soirée. They were real old fogeys like that – still living by some old fucking moral code that had gone out with the ark. The Allens were confident enough to play up to the gallery; it was what they wanted. It was about time that someone showed the Baileys that they were not the only game in town – they had too much to say for one family.
Billy could hear his brother telling another filthy joke as he walked to the bar to refill the glasses, insisting in a loud voice on a decent-sized drink. ‘Fuck me, are this lot on a budget or what?’
The insult was there, and everyone around them heard it.
Chapter Ninety-Three
Petey Bailey watched as his wife-to-be danced provocatively all by her lonesome. She was a good eyeful, no doubt about that, but she was also a first-class prick-tease. He could see most of the men in the room trying not to watch her as she gyrated with a vacant smile on her face, and he wondered why he was putting himself through this charade.
He
had vowed to himself that if he could get in her knickers before the big day, he would out her without a backward glance. He would even let her keep the ring – he could be very magnanimous when the fancy took him. Up until now, her drawers had been harder to break into than the Bank of England; Bernadette was canny – she knew that once she succumbed to his charms he would lose interest. If she held out, he would marry her, but if he did, he intended for her to be banging out babies like a fucking machine gun, that was for sure.
Her inflated opinion of herself would not cut any ice with him once the dirty deed was done; he would knock her up and move on to pastures new. She would get what she wanted: the name, a big drum, and a gold card. He would get a family and, if she provided him with that, he would tolerate her.
Petey recognised that he had a lot of his Uncle Daniel in him. Over the years he had learned to be very ruthless; in fact, since his brother Jack’s demise, he had found a strength that kept him sane. Seeing first hand just what his father was capable of had been a real learning curve, and it had hit home how lucky he had been to escape any stronger punishment for his gambling and his attempt at skimming off the family take.
Walking to Bernadette, he pulled her into his arms in a gesture of possession. As she looked up into his eyes, he appreciated just how stunning her appearance was, and a bit of him knew that many men would envy him his good fortune. Petey was under no illusions that there was anything of any real substance inside the perfect shell. She was like a lot of the girls in their world – useless, without any kind of personality, completely devoid of the work ethic, and on the look-out for a decent pay packet. Bernadette had hit the mother lode with him. As much as that knowledge disappointed him, a part of him didn’t judge her. Bernadette had no proper education or understanding of the real world. She had no chance of getting a job – all she had going for her were her looks, and she had used them as her only asset. Unfortunately, looks did not endure; once they were gone, she would be one fucking unhappy person. She would hang on to her youth with the determination of a Japanese Tosa and, like that dog, she would fight tooth and nail to make sure she got what she wanted.
She swayed against him, and he felt the usual stirring inside him; he knew she was aware of it too. He grinned at her. ‘Happy?’
She nodded, her deep blue eyes sparkling with triumph. ‘I am, Petey. I love you.’
He hugged her close, kissing her softly on her glossy pink lips. They were both aware that he didn’t say it back.
Chapter Ninety-Four
Ria had observed this exchange with Lena and Imelda and each of the three women felt that the little tableau was all wrong. Petey and Bernadette looked like they were on a blind date, and a disastrous blind date at that. They did not resemble a real couple in any way.
Ria sighed. ‘Where’s Tania?’
Lena shrugged. ‘She will be here, you know what she’s like.’
Ria glanced around her home, it was more than large enough to accommodate all the guests, and the DJ who had set up in the conservatory was now, finally, playing the older style records; the younger people were dancing happily to a bit of Motown. The men were in the kitchen, the older men anyway; it was the time of night when business would be the order of the day. She was tired out, but she was relieved that the party was a good one, by anyone’s standards. It was just after eleven, and the whole thing was just taking off; she had hours to go before she could excuse herself.
As she saw Tania come into the room, she smiled in relief. Lena had been watching the door for her daughter all night and, now she was finally here, Lena could relax.
Tania was lovely – not as obviously beautiful as Bernadette O’Toole, but she was a natural beauty. Where Bernadette had learned to enhance her natural assets with make-up, hair dye and expensive underwear, Tania still had the fresh-faced youth that was actually far more appealing, in Ria’s opinion. With her reddish-blond hair, and her deep blue eyes, she was the double of Theresa Bailey as a girl; anyone who saw her immediately saw the resemblance. It was uncanny. Being the good girl she was, Tania went straight to where her grandmother was sitting, and she made a huge fuss of her before making her way over to her mother and aunt.
‘Where were you? I expected you hours ago.’ Lena tried not to sound as worried as she obviously was and Tania laughed.
‘Mum! I was doing my coursework with Ellen Sparks. I told you I was going there first. We need to get ourselves in gear if we want good grades. How’s it going? Is it all right if I have a proper drink?’
Imelda laughed at her cousin’s bravery. ‘Come on, Tania, one little vodka won’t kill you.’ She whisked her away quickly. ‘You’ve already been drinking! I can smell it on you – cider, and cheap cider at that!’
Tania grinned as they pushed their way towards the bar area.
‘Coursework, my arse! Where you been really?’
‘No, I was working, Imelda. Me and Ellen just had a drink while we were studying, that’s all. I’m seventeen, for God’s sake! My mum and dad act as if I’m twelve.’
‘It will never change, you can take that as fact from me. My dad still treats me like I’m a fucking schoolkid.’
They both got double vodkas, and the noise and the heat of the room drove them out into the large gardens. The cool air was just what they needed.
‘So how has it been? Has Petey somehow miraculously seen the light?’
Imelda smiled and took a deep gulp of her drink. Tania had a crush on her older cousin, and Imelda knew that she didn’t think anyone had sussed that out yet. But Tania looked at him like he was some kind of god, and she suspected that Tania’s crush would be there for a good while yet. It didn’t help that Petey unwittingly made a big fuss of her – they all did. She was a very lovable person. Clearly Tania hoped that one day he would see her for the woman she was becoming, but that was never going to happen. Imelda had her fingers crossed that the crush would fizzle out naturally.
‘Petey is happy, Tania – he knows what he wants. He’s in his thirties, he ain’t a little kid. We might not like her, love, but he’s the one who’s chosen to tie himself to her.’
Tania was devastated by her words, and Imelda was sorry to hurt her, but sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind. Tania was growing into a lovely young woman, and Imelda knew that Tania was feeling the ache of her unrequited crush on a daily basis. It was almost painful to watch her at times. She changed the subject. ‘Lot of people here, why didn’t you invite any of your friends?’
Tania shrugged. ‘Dunno. Look at the boys, drunk together as usual!’
All the cousins were halfway down the garden lawn and, if Imelda knew anything, they were stoned as well. Even at fifty feet away she could see the signs. Both of her Delroys were with them, which annoyed her; her son was a handful at the best of times, without his father and the boys making him worse. She secretly hated that he was working for the family already – unlike Tania there was no way that he was ever going to use his brains for anything outside the Bailey empire. Delroy had been pleased at his son’s insistence that he just wanted to join the family firm. She had not been able to talk him round; he had decided his own fate from a very early age. She had hoped against hope that he would want to become a regular member of society. She worked the Bailey businesses, and she enjoyed it, but she wanted more for her child; she didn’t want the danger of prison hanging over his head. But he had known what he wanted, and she had quickly been made to understand that she had no say in the matter. It was early days – he was only sixteen – but he was already getting a name for himself.
Delroy Junior had always been a difficult, wayward child, with a dangerous streak. He had been nothing but trouble at his school – too much to say for himself, his teachers said, and no interest in working for anything. Eventually he had been expelled for fighting, and that was after years of trying to make him see that there was another life out there if he would only look for it. Her husband had dismissed it as natural spirit; he’d been proud of him
almost, whereas she had seen it as a recipe for disaster.
‘You all right, Imelda?’
‘I was just thinking about you and my Delroy as kids – now you’re both so grown up. It’s hard, you know, to finally accept that you’re old enough to do your own thing.’
Tania hugged her, understanding that Imelda was worried for her son. ‘He’ll be all right, Imelda, everyone looks out for him. Stop worrying.’
Imelda nodded, saddened that even Tania knew that her young Delroy’s only real strength against the world he lived in lay in the fact that he was a part of the Bailey family. Except Tania didn’t know just what being a Bailey actually entailed – not yet anyway.
‘Come on, drink up! I’ll get us another one.’
Tania did as she was told. She watched Petey and Bernadette as they slow-danced together – even through the patio doors she could see that Bernadette was moulded to her cousin like a wet T-shirt, and the scene saddened her. Petey was so handsome and so clever – why couldn’t he see that Bernadette was not good enough for him, was not worthy of his name?
She walked aimlessly towards the boys; they were loud and their laughter was enticing. They welcomed her into their company happily, and she felt the usual warmth of their love surround her.
Chapter Ninety-Five
Peter and Daniel were in a small room at the back of the house that Peter used as an office. It had once been the butler’s pantry, and Peter liked everything about it, from the wood panelling on the walls to the small oriole windows that were still in possession of their original stained-glass motifs. It now sported an antique desk and a large, leather captain’s chair; it was a beautiful room, and Peter knew that it impressed people. He had filled the bookshelves with what he saw as important books – anyone who scanned the shelves would assume that an educated man lived there. He had paid a lot of money to ensure that, and he had sworn that one day he would read the books. It was his dream – when he finally retired – to educate himself before it was too late.