Dangerous Lady

by Martina Cole

  Michael was jubilant! The only cloud on their horizon was Dopolis. Although they now had just about everything they wanted to know about him, plans for his demise were put on hold for the time being. He was the bait with which they were going to lure William Templeton. As Michael had playfully remarked to Maura, ‘Let him get over his injuries first. He can pay for Benny when he’s better!’

  Sarah Ryan had still not acknowledged either of them. This had cut Michael deeply. His mother had been his life. But the estrangement from her had brought brother and sister closer together. They spent every available minute in each other’s company. Maura now needed Michael more than ever. When she was with him he could convince her that Sammy Goldbaum’s and Jonny Fenwick’s deaths were just the paying of a debt. While she was with him she could accept that. Away from him, she was frightened and lonely. Every day that passed was making her more bitter and confused. They had spent the days since Christmas following up their leads on Templeton, and decided they would pay him a visit on New Year’s Day. Until then they would bide their time.

  On the 29 December 1975 Roy’s son was born. He rang the news through to Michael at seven in the evening. Maura and Michael arrived at St Mary’s Hospital at eight-thirty. After looking at the new baby fleetingly, Michael and the rest of the boys took Roy out to celebrate, all feeling the loss of Benny more than ever.

  Maura was left with Janine. She noticed that her mother was nowhere to be seen.

  She held the baby, Benny Anthony, in her arms. ‘He’s beautiful, Janine. I hope you realise just how lucky you are?’

  Janine smiled wearily. ‘I’m a bit sore, Maws, but he was worth it.’

  Maura nodded. She was staring at the baby so intently that Janine felt a prickle of fear.

  ‘I nearly had a baby once, Janine. A long time ago.’ Maura’s voice was sad. For the first time ever Janine pitied her.

  ‘I know, Maura. Roy told me.’

  She held the baby tighter to her chest.

  ‘It was a lovely gesture, naming the baby after Benny and Anthony. It brings them back somehow.’ She kissed the baby’s downy head. ‘I think that if they’d at least let us bury Benny, half the battle would be over. I can’t stand to think of him on ice.’

  ‘Please, Maura. Don’t talk about it.’ Janine was nearly in tears.

  Maura’s sing-song voice as she spoke about her brother made Janine feel frightened. She had always been a little in awe of Maura. Now she was terrified.

  Maura smiled radiantly at her.

  ‘I’m sorry, Jan. I’m getting a bit morbid!’ She kissed the baby’s head again and squeezed him to her breast. It took all Janine’s willpower not to snatch her baby away. Janine was sensitive and felt things very deeply. She did not want this woman anywhere near her child.

  Roy had said recently that he did not think that Maura was right in the head. Looking at her now, Janine was sure that she was capable of anything. She had a terrible feeling that Maura would even kill a baby if it would get her what she wanted. Janine shivered.

  ‘You cold?’

  ‘No, Maura, just tired. It takes a lot out of you, having a baby.’

  ‘Like shitting a football, is how Marge described it!’

  Janine pursed her lips. She had never understood the Ryans’ use of bad language. They swore in much the same way as her mother said ‘God bless you’.

  Janine took all her courage into her hands and decided to approach Maura with an idea that had been floating around inside her head for months.

  ‘Maura?’

  ‘What?’ She was rocking the baby in her arms, completely engrossed in his little face. He was looking up at her with the dark blue Ryan eyes.

  Janine picked at her bedsheet, watching her sister-in-law warily.

  ‘It’s about Roy.’

  Maura laughed gently. ‘He’s like a dog with three lamp posts! I’ve never seen him like this. All the boys are ribbing him terrible. You’d think this was the first baby ever born!’

  ‘I know . . . I know.’ Janine was finding it difficult to find the appropriate words.

  Maura sensed that there was something going on and looked Janine in the face.

  ‘What’s on your mind? Come on, spit it out. I’m not really an ogre, whatever my Mum might say.’ Her voice was bitter.

  ‘I was wondering if you would help Roy set up a little business ...’

  Her voice trailed off as she saw the look of shock on Maura’s face.

  ‘You what! Roy work outside the family? You must be joking.’

  Janine started to cry. ‘Oh, Maura, I’m so frightened.’ She put her face into her hands. ‘I feel like a policeman’s wife, wondering if he’s going to come home. Then after what happened to Benny . . .’

  Maura pulled her hands away from her face. ‘You’re just overwrought, that’s all. Having a baby makes you go funny.’

  ‘NO! It’s not that!’ Janine lost all caution. ‘I don’t want to be left a widow, bringing up the baby on my own. I want us to be a normal family. A real family. Roy’s not meant to be a thug.’

  Maura put the baby into the cot by the bed. Her face was set. She loomed over Janine and began to speak to her in a low and menacing voice.

  ‘Shall I tell you something, Janine? In case it has escaped your notice. Roy, as much as I love him, is as thick as two short planks. He can barely count over fifty. He still reads Marvel comics, for Christ’s sake! The best he could ever have expected out of life was a job on the council or with the Water Board. Either way, you’d not be spending the kind of hefty wedge you’re used to now. Your father tried to turn him into a butcher and look where that got him. If Roy knew what you’d said here tonight he’d give you a well-deserved slap. Now about the other load of shit you was spouting . . .’

  She pushed Janine back against the pillows hard and poked her in the chest. ‘You want to be a real family, do you? You dumped your daughter on my mother if you remember rightly, love. If push ever comes to shove, you can dump your new arrival on her and all, can’t you? Don’t you ever try and bullshit me again. DO YOU HEAR ME?’

  Maura’s loud voice made the baby whimper in his cot. ‘I’m going to forget what you’ve said in here tonight, Janine, because I know that having a baby can make you a bit distraught. I’m warning you, though, if I ever get wind that you’ve said this to anyone else, I’ll come and sort you out myself. Get it?’

  Janine nodded, her lips trembling. She realised that she had just made an enemy for life.

  Maura watched her closely. Then she smiled a soft little smile that did not reach her eyes. Picking up her bag from the floor, she opened it, took out a blue velvet box and handed it to Janine.

  ‘Well, open it then.’ She snapped.

  Janine was shaking so badly that Maura had to place her own hands on top of hers to help her open the box. Inside was a gold and platinum identity bracelet.

  ‘I’ll have his name put on it for you.’

  Janine swallowed heavily. She did not want it. ‘Tha . . . thanks. It’s lovely. Beautiful.’ A stray tear slid down her face. Maura wiped it away gently with her fingers.

  ‘Cheer up, love. You just had a lovely little boy. You should be laughing, not crying.’

  Janine forced a smile she did not think she had in her. ‘As you say . . . it’s my hormones or something.’

  Maura laughed. ‘That’s the ticket. Now, I’m off to the Crown and Two Chairmen. If that lot are left on their own with Roy, he’ll end up legless.’ She put her bag under her arm and kissed Janine on the cheek.

  ‘I heard a little saying the other day, Janine. It might give you something to think about. It was on a wall in some public toilets and Mickey read it. It said: “Life is like a shit sandwich. The more bread you’ve got, the less shit you have to eat.” I’d think about that if I was you.’

  With one last glance at the baby, Maura left the room. Janine was convinced that she was fuming inside and she was right. She sat in the bed staring at the identity bracele
t. The tears came in a red hot rush. She felt like a trapped animal.

  Her mother-in-law had been right. They would never let Roy go.

  A while later a nurse came in and gave her a little talking to. And Janine sat in the bed silently as she was told all about ‘the baby blues’. She was still crying when the nurse finally gave up and left her.

  Maura drove to the Crown and Two Chairmen feeling better than she had for weeks. It had taken Janine’s smugness and petty strivings for respectability to bring her out of her depression.

  She was honest with herself, though. Holding the new baby had brought back all her maternal feelings and she had resented the fact that the baby was Janine’s. Had she but known, Janine could not have picked a worse time to ask Maura for a favour.

  Chapter Twenty

  Maura walked into the Crown and Two Chairmen pub in Dean Street. As usual it was packed. She pushed her way through the throng of people and finally located the boys in the corner. Roy was already very drunk. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and camaraderie. Leslie saw Maura first and raised himself from his seat unsteadily. He was as drink as a lord. Maura smiled at him.

  ‘Hello, Mawsh.’ His voice was slurred.

  ‘Sit down, Les, before you fall down.’ She looked around the table. Her six remaining brothers were all sitting, looking like clones of one another, all in different states of inebriation. Only Michael was even remotely sober. He stood up and offered her his seat.

  ‘Sit down, Maws, and I’ll get you a drink. What’ll it be? Scotch?’

  Maura sat down and nodded at him. He went to the bar.

  ‘Well, you lot seem to be enjoying yourselves.’ She made her voice sound jovial. Five pairs of eyes stared at her blankly. Maura felt for the first time the impact of their combined wariness and it hurt her. Only Geoffrey looked different and she realised that he looked smug. Smug and very, very sure of himself. Maura mentally chalked one up to him.

  ‘Well, Roy, you got a son at last.’

  He nodded at her, a silly grin on his drunken face. Maura began to search in her bag for her cigarettes. It was obvious that she was not welcome. In her present state of mind she was not sure if it was over Benny or because it was a boys’ night out. Michael came back with a tray of drinks and she took the double Scotch he gave her and drank it straight down.

  ‘That bad, Maws?’ Michael’s voice was soft.

  ‘No. Actually it’s worse. If you boys will excuse me, I have got some work to do in the club. OK?’

  She picked up her bag and left as quickly as possible. Outside in the freezing night she breathed a deep sigh. It was still snowy, though most of it had turned to slush and black ice. She walked carefully up Dean Street to Le Buxom. The main damage to the club had been in the foyer. The little reception desk where Sheree Davidson had been sitting on the night of the bombing had taken most of the blast from the petrol bomb. The damage to the club had turned out to be minimal. Mainly cosmetic. But as Maura walked inside she was acutely aware of the fact that Sheree would never again walk in there with her tall stories and deep braying laugh. She had been popular with both punters and the other hostesses. She had left two children, who were now in the care of the courts. Their father, or fathers, no one was sure, were nowhere to be found. If indeed Sheree ever knew who they were.

  As for Gerry Jackson, he had been taken to a Burns Unit in Billericay. His wife had already been made an interim payment of two thousand pounds to get her over Christmas and the New Year. She would receive a substantial weekly amount until it was decided by the doctors what would happen to Gerry. If he never worked again he would be more than amply provided for.

  The club was once more up and running. It had been reopened less than a week after the ‘trouble’. As Maura walked into the familiar blast of warm air she could hear ‘My Eyes Adored You’. Her mind registered that Louise Barton was doing her act. Maura looked at her watch. It was nearly eleven and she was surprised that it was so late. She slipped off her fur coat and locked it in the little cloakroom just inside the entrance to the club.

  Picking her bag up off the floor she went over to the meat seats and started her night’s work. A new girl called Monique, for once a real Frenchwoman and not a phony, had started a few weeks previously. She was a very very beautiful girl, very intelligent, and not at all the usual class of tom. There was just one thing that had puzzled Maura: she would take literally any punter. And another of the girls had told Maura that she would ‘go case’ for as little as fifty pounds. The minimum that her girls usually worked for was one hundred pounds plus their hostess fee. That told Maura one thing: Monique either had a violent pimp who insisted on a night ‘quota’, or she had a drugs problem.

  Maura guessed it was the latter, and if it was, then it would not be long before they were busted. The busts were well staged. They were told at least a week in advance when one was going to occur so they could put off any well-known citizens, such as judges or more rarely politicians. The police had no qualms about arresting any of the girls that were taking, or happened to possess, drugs. It gave the so-called raid credibility. But Maura did not work like that. She would not, like some club owners, employ ‘stooges’ to give their busts a veneer of realism.

  Monique was sitting with two black girls. They were chatting together amicably, which was unusual in itself. There was a fierce rivalry between the black and white toms, but Monique seemed to be liked by everyone. Maura went to where they were sitting, and smiled.

  ‘Hello.’ She nodded at the three girls. ‘I wonder, Monique, could I see you upstairs for a few minutes?’ Maura’s voice was friendly. The other girls would assume that Maura had a ‘homebird’, a regular punter who had arranged to pay for the girl over the phone. That entailed stumping up for two bottles of champagne, fifty cigarettes, and a small administration fee. The girl would then be cabbed to the man’s address.

  Monique stood up and Maura noticed that she was very bright-eyed. Her pupils were dilated. She followed Maura upstairs to the office. Maura turned on the lights and, walking to the window, shut the venetian blinds. She turned back to face Monique and, smiling still, offered her a chair. The girl sat down. Instead of walking around the desk and sitting in her own chair, Maura stood in front of Monique, leaning on the edge of the desk.

  ‘Monique, hold out your arms, please.’

  ‘But why?’

  Maura cleared her throat. She hated this. ‘Would you please hold out your arms? You know why.’

  Monique had long black hair and dark hazel eyes. In the bright light of the office Maura was surprised at how hard-faced she really was. In the muted light of the club she looked much younger. Maura had thought she was in her twenties. Looking at her now, though, she put her much nearer forty.

  ‘Please, Monique. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.’

  Monique held out her arms. Maura checked them for track marks. There was nothing.

  Monique looked at her triumphantly. ‘You see, Miss Ryan. Nothing.’

  Maura smiled apologetically. ‘Take your stockings off, please.’

  Monique’s faced dropped. ‘I beg your . . . how you say?’

  Maura finished her sentence for her. ‘Pardon. I beg your pardon. Now, if you don’t mind, take your stockings off. I want a quick shufti at your calves and your shins, OK?’

  Monique’s eyes glittered with malevolence. She reminded Maura of a cornered rat.

  ‘Take your stockings off, Monique. Either you do as I ask or I’ll call one of the bouncers up here to have them forcibly removed. It’s your choice.’ She saw Monique’s eyes go to the beaded bag on her lap. ‘And don’t even think about trying to shiv me, darling. It would only end in tears. And they wouldn’t be mine.’

  Maura’s voice was as hard as concrete now. Monique surveyed her, weighing up the pros and cons. After a few seconds she dragged her tight black velour dress over her thighs. Slowly she began to undo the suspender belt. Monique rolled the stocking down to below he
r knee and held her leg out for inspection. Maura grinned. She was used to every ploy in the book. She took off the black patent leather shoe that Monique was wearing and pulled the stocking off completely. The bottom of her leg was a mass of needle marks. Even between her toes. Maura threw the stocking back at her and sighed.

  ‘You’re a bloody mug to yourself. You know that, don’t you, Monique?’

  The woman shrugged. She began to put her stocking back on.

  Maura carried on talking. ‘I know for a fact that you can speak German, Arabic, and even a smattering of Japanese. You’re not a fool. Why do you take drugs?’

  Monique slipped her shoe back on and took the cigarette that Maura offered her. Maura offered her a light. Monique puffed on the cigarette.

  ‘You people make me laugh. Oh, don’t look so . . . how you say? . . . shocked. I come here night after night and I sleep with strange men. Some of them are very nice men. Very kind. Some, they are rough and they want to hurt you.’

  She saw Maura’s face change and laughed. ‘You are a very funny girl. You do not want me in your club because I take drugs. Well, let me tell you, I have been a prostitute since I was seventeen. Over twenty years. I have to have something to give me a bit of happiness and I find it in drugs. I have slept with thousands of different men and while I work for people like you, I make you very much money. How many of my men have refused to pay their bills, eh? None. I can sweet talk any man I want. So please don’t lecture me!

  ‘I will leave your club. It’s shit anyway since the bomb was thrown in here. All the girls are nervous.’ She stood up and put her cigarette out in the ashtray on the desk. ‘I will say one thing before I go. Who is worse, eh? Me because I sell my body, or you for earning good money off that fact?’

  ‘I give all the girls a good deal here. I offer them a degree of protection that they would not get anywhere else in London.’ Maura’s voice was defensive.