The Life

by Martina Cole

  As he ordered another round of drinks, he saw Dessie Graham, the landlord of the pub, walk into the bar area and, smiling widely, he said cockily, ‘You all right, mate? You look like you’ve lost a tenner and found a pound.’

  The man ignored him and, unplugging the jukebox, he waited patiently for everyone in the pub to stop talking before he said quietly, ‘There’s been a car bomb in London. Lena Bailey, Daniel’s wife, has been killed.’

  No one said a word. A few of the women made choking noises as the enormity of the woman’s demise hit them, and Terrence Allen could almost feel the genuine shock and horror of the people around him as a physical thing.

  But it was nothing compared with the shock and horror that was settling on to his shoulders. This had gone seriously wrong, and he was shaking with fear.

  The tragic news would spread like wildfire, as he had known it would, only it wasn’t the news he had been expecting. This was news he had not contemplated in a million years. Lena Bailey was a woman of renown – she was respected, she was Daniel Bailey’s wife, for fuck’s sake! She was not supposed to die like this. She was supposed to die in her bed, years from now. Her untimely death would be seen for what it was – a complete fucking abomination.

  What the fuck was she doing in Peter Bailey’s car? And, more to the point, why was no one in it with her? This was bad, very bad, for all concerned.

  Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen

  Her father’s grief was palpable and Tania was unsure how to deal with it.

  Her brothers were sitting in the big kitchen, their faces white with the shock, and still she couldn’t cry. She knew she should be beside herself, knew she should be prostrate, but instead she was just numb. She couldn’t feel anything, she wasn’t even sure she believed it. Maybe they had got it all wrong, her mum couldn’t be dead. She just couldn’t be.

  Danny was pouring them large whiskies, and she took the glass he offered her without thinking. As she gulped down the fiery liquid she started to cough, feeling as if it was choking her, burning her throat and belly. Her brother pulled her into his arms, and she buried her face into his chest; she could smell the acrid aroma of burning, knew that it was the aftermath of her mother’s death. She had been blown apart – there was nothing left of her, she was gone. It was surreal.

  Jamsie was crying quietly, like a baby, and Davey was trying to comfort him. As Danny held her close, she felt herself holding on to him as tightly as she could. Noel was just sitting there, staring ahead of him.

  But it was her father who was worrying her; he was wild-eyed, and he looked like he could collapse at any second. Never in her life had she seen him looking so vulnerable, so human. He seemed smaller somehow, crushed.

  She could hear her nana coming through the front door and, when she came into the kitchen, Tania flew into her arms, grateful to have a female around. Her nana was the next best thing to her mum – she always had been.

  Theresa held her granddaughter in her arms, and she whispered over and over again that everything would be all right. But Tania knew it would never be all right, nothing would ever be all right again.

  Tommy Barker busied himself making tea, pouring drinks, and like each of them, he was wondering who the fuck could be behind this night’s work.

  And, like each of them, he had his own suspicions.

  Chapter One Hundred and Nineteen

  Ria Bailey was standing beside her husband; they had been in West End Central for hours, and now they had finally made it to Daniel’s home.

  She knew that she would never ever forget this night as long as she lived. It was unbelievable. Lena, poor Lena, to die like that.

  As they walked into the house, Ria could see traces of her friend everywhere, from her cardigan draped over the banister to her slippers lying by the front door. Cut down in her prime, and by a car bomb that had been meant for her husband. That was the real shocker. It was her Peter who should be spread all over the West End, not Lena. She felt guilty because, deep down, she was glad it wasn’t him, she was glad he was beside her still. She felt bad for feeling like that, but it was the truth.

  Poor Tania – she was just seventeen, and her mum was gone, murdered. It was so fucking unfair, so wrong.

  Lena had never done anything to anyone, she was the best of the bunch really. Now she was dead, and there was nothing anyone could do about it, nothing that could bring her back.

  As they walked into the kitchen, Ria saw Tania. The girl looked awful; she was being held by her nana, and Theresa looked old, so old. It was as if the night’s events had finally forced age to creep up on her. Theresa was not as strong as she liked to think she was and this was a blow the older woman would never recover from.

  It was one that none of them would ever recover from.

  Chapter One Hundred and Twenty

  Tania wondered if even the weather was coming out in sympathy with her; it was dark and cold and the rain was lashing the windscreen, the sound loud in the confines of the car. The world outside looked grey, scruffy, dilapidated, and that was exactly how she felt.

  She was sitting beside her father as they drove through East London. They had been to see the undertakers to organise the funeral. Her mother was to have a glass carriage pulled by four black-plumed horses and her coffin was to be lead-lined – the best that was available.

  Her father had just talked his way through the arrangements, not listening to the undertaker or able to comprehend what was being asked. He had simply chosen the most expensive things offered, and he had looked so beaten, so old as he did, that she was heart-sorry for him. In truth, her mother would not have wanted this; Lena had never been comfortable with pomp and ceremony, but her father felt he was doing his wife proud, and so Tania kept her own counsel. He was feeling it more than any of them – herself included. Her father, whatever his faults – and they were legion – had loved her mother with a passion. No one could ever dispute that he had adored her, and they had been together for so long.

  Tania still felt strange; it had not really hit her yet, not properly. She still expected her mum to come into her bedroom with a cup of tea in the morning and tell her it was time to get up, or walk into the kitchen and see her ironing while the dinner cooked and Radio 2 was blaring. But those things would never happen again; she knew she had to accept that. Nothing would ever be the same again for any of them. Her brothers were creeping around their father, as wary as she was about how he was going to react once he came out of his stupor.

  She had overheard him the night before; the police had been at the house and it seemed to her that it was her father asking questions and not the other way around. In fact, she guessed her father was somehow involved with them – and not in the usual way either. He was threatening them, demanding that they find the culprits. She had wanted to laugh at that. Culprits! The word sounded so old-fashioned, yet she knew her father was dealing with it the only way he could.

  She feared that once the reality sank in her father would be capable of anything. She had heard enough, seen enough over the years to be well aware that her father was not a man to cross. The fact that the bomb which had killed her mother had been meant for her Uncle Peter, had brought home to her just how dangerous the Life was for all concerned. It had taken her cousin Jack, and it had taken her mother. Who would be next?

  Delroy Junior had been a diamond. He had really been there for her, even though the circumstances of her mum’s death had hit him like a sledgehammer too. It was as if they were each waking up to a new reality; until now it had never occurred to her father or his brother, or to any of the family come to that, that their lives might actually be in danger. Her dad was devastated about her mother but, reading between the lines, she also guessed that he was unable to comprehend the fact that anyone would dare to challenge them – the Baileys. Beyond belief and incredible was how he kept describing it; as the days were passing, he was focusing more and more on that. It was as if he needed to settle this before he could actually
allow himself to grieve properly.

  Tania guessed there was more Bailey in her than any of them had ever realised, herself included, because she had been shocked to discover that if she found out who the culprits were she would readily take them down herself. The idea that she was even capable of such emotions had really amazed her – that she could lie in her bed, wide awake, and plan her revenge on the people responsible had made her feel sick at first. She had fought against her thoughts. But, like her father and her brothers, she was becoming consumed by them; they actually made her feel better and capable of taking control of the situation. The men who had murdered her mother had no right to be walking around as if nothing had happened, no right to be living their lives when her mother was dead, gone for ever, never again to be held close, never to see her grandchildren or her daughter’s wedding. Tania wanted them dead, every bit as much as her father did. Maybe then she could finally grieve too.

  ‘You hungry, Tania?’ Her father’s voice made her jump. He was being so solicitous. He was like a fish out of water with her; he had always been there for her, but he had believed that a girl needed her mother. Her mother, on the other hand, had done all she could to make sure she was protected from the Life. Now, ironically, she was as much a part of the Life as the rest of them because it had finally drawn her in; the circumstances of her mother’s death had guaranteed that. The sheer violence of it, the complete disregard for human life, had meant there was no other choice.

  Tania and her father needed each other now. Tania needed his strength and his desire for revenge. She was looking forward to seeing it done.

  She shook her head. ‘Not really, Dad. I’ve not got any appetite.’

  He placed a huge hand tentatively on her leg; he was so uncomfortable showing affection. He was trying his utmost to do right by her, and it was at times like this she understood just what her mother meant when she had said that her dad might be a man of few words, but was deeper than people gave him credit for. Until now, Tania had honestly believed that her mother had only said that to make her feel better about her father’s inability to show affection. He had never quite managed the knack of actually talking to her, but that had never mattered before, because she had had her mum. If she was really honest she had always been a little bit wary of her father and his propensity for anger over the slightest thing.

  She suddenly remembered the day of her First Holy Communion, and what she had witnessed in the men’s toilets. There had been other times over the years when she had seen that side of him unleashed on the general populace. Friends at school had heard the stories about her dad. He’d killed a man and his little child. He’d crippled another man for no good reason. Like everyone else, Tania had heard the rumours, but she had a different perspective to the people outside her family – she knew him as a dad. He would move heaven and earth for her if she asked him to. He might not be the most demonstrative man on the planet, but he was still her father and she knew he cared about her deeply.

  She’d never let on to her mother that she’d heard these stories. Lena could not have coped with her daughter knowing something so heinous. But the strange thing was, even though Tania knew it was wrong, she had also come to believe that there must have been more to it than people outside the family saw. They were a family of villains, and successful villains at that. But they were also her family, and she was not going to judge any of them, least of all her dad.

  He hadn’t answered her, he hadn’t exactly been eating either, though her nana was ensconced back at their house, cooking like a woman demented. Her brothers were glad of Theresa’s presence, and so was she. Her nana knew the score and, over the years, she had tried to give her granddaughter an insight into the Life. In fact, as old as she was, her nana had a brain like a steel trap, and Tania had realised in the last few days just how important her opinion was to her family. She was really getting an education from listening to her talk, and she was glad about that – it gave her something else to focus on. She also sensed that her nana felt it was high time Tania knew the real score of being a Bailey, and exactly what it could entail.

  She sighed heavily. Blinking back the tears that were blurring her vision, she said seriously, ‘I hope you find whoever planted that bomb, Dad, and I hope you make them pay.’

  Daniel Bailey glanced quickly at his daughter; he was so sorry that she had been forced to grow up so quickly, and had lost her mother. But he could hear the Bailey determination in her voice, and it suddenly occurred to him that she was as much a part of the family as the rest of them. That knowledge would break his Lena’s heart, but he could see that it was the Bailey strength that would eventually get his daughter through this.

  ‘Don’t worry, love. I’m on it.’

  Daniel’s mobile rang then, and he answered it as they were waiting at the traffic lights in Stepney. He didn’t even say hello to the caller. He never did – he always just listened when he was on his mobile. Tania used her phone as a social tool, as something to keep her in contact with her world and her friends; her brothers and her father used the phone as little as possible and, even when they did, they never said anything of any import. She remembered the times her father had stopped the car, annoying her if he was dropping her off at a friend’s, and used a payphone, even though she had a mobile, as he did too. He had always said that he hated them and believed that eventually the people who had them glued to their heads would end up with brain tumours or worse. She had laughed at him, thought he was sweet because of his old-fashioned ways. Now, though, she realised it was so no one could listen in to his conversations and accuse him of anything untoward.

  She jumped as her father suddenly barked angrily into his phone, ‘I’m on me way.’

  Tania was thrown sideways as her father rammed the car into gear and did an illegal U-turn, to the consternation of the other drivers around them.

  ‘What’s happened? What’s going on, Dad?’

  Her father didn’t answer her; they sped through the streets, as the evening slowly drew in around them. She sensed that this was something important, and she sat back in her seat, wondering why she wasn’t feeling remotely frightened.

  Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-One

  The scrapyard was quiet, and Danny had made sure the guard dogs were removed from the premises. The old boy who did the night watch had picked the animals up without a word; he knew better than to query anything that concerned the Baileys – especially now. Everyone knew there was a serious crisis in that family, and anyone with even a modicum of brain cells knew better than to interfere or, worse still, question a direct order. Lena Bailey’s death was not going to be overlooked, that much everyone was agreed on.

  No one was allowed on these premises unless they were accompanied by a close family member. Daniel Bailey was old school; he believed that the best form of defence was to be hidden away behind some kind of fencing – he wasn’t as enlightened as his older brother or, indeed, his sons. They all thought – wrongly as it had now been proved – that they were immune to retaliations. Daniel had always known that a fortress was better than a fucking office door if things were suddenly to go seriously fucking pear-shaped. Now his sons had come round to his way of thinking – especially his eldest boy, who had begun to appreciate the need for such a structure, and who also thanked God that there was already one in existence. Danny was aware that his father was more on the ball than he had given him credit for. Like the others, Danny had been lulled into a false sense of security over the years, but his mother’s murder had disabused him of that notion.

  He looked around the Portakabin, pleased that his father had situated it in such a way that there was no chance of anyone seeing what was going on inside it. His father had, over the years, built a wall of iron which encompassed the Portakabin. Because of that, it was not only entirely private, it was also more or less soundproof. No one could hear you scream and, even if by some remote chance they did, the fact it was owned by Daniel Bailey guaranteed no one would b
other to investigate anyway. Danny had his own suspicions about his mother’s murderer, but unless he had something concrete he daren’t voice them out loud – not with the family as they were now. He needed to be absolutely sure before he blew them apart.

  He looked at Dessie Graham; he could feel the terror coming off him in waves and he forced himself to wink at him in an attempt to put him at ease. He was sorry for him – Dessie was a good bloke, and it would have taken a lot of guts to come here like this.

  Dessie Graham, a handsome man in his sixties, was so nervous he felt physically sick. It was nothing to be ashamed of – at times like these anyone in their right mind would be on edge. But he had to say his piece; the Baileys had been good to him, and he was loyal – he prided himself on that. Dessie ran the Baileys’ pub on Southend Seafront, and he had no option but to come and discuss his suspicions with the men who paid his wage – a good wage at that. When he had come out of the nick after a twelve stretch, Daniel and Peter had given him a good earn; he would never forget that.

  He had come alone, a fact that was noted by Danny and his brothers with respect. In the present climate, there were not many men who would come alone to a meet like this. The Baileys – especially Daniel Bailey – would not exactly be likely to be at their most amenable at this tragic time in their lives.

  When Daniel Bailey walked into the Portakabin with his daughter, Dessie felt his heart actually skip a beat. He was terrified to the point of virtual apoplexy now, even though he was innocent of any misdeeds against the Bailey clan. Of course, there was the added bonus that anyone with information would also collect a hefty wedge for their trouble. But Dessie liked to think he was doing this for the right reasons; if he was correct and got a reward of some kind that would just be a bonus.