by Martina Cole
Maura, along with many people in that room, blinked away tears. She decided that Michael would have approved of his father singing. Would have enjoyed it, had he been here. She sipped at her drink.
When Benjamin finished singing everyone called for another and Maura’s voice was the loudest. Drinking his beer and clearing his throat, Benjamin began singing once more.
Down in the valley, the valley so blue,
Hang your head over . . .
Maura listened to the sad words and felt the grief inside her gradually ebbing away.
Send it by letter, send it by mail,
Send it by care of the Birmingham jail . . .
She knew the songs back to front. They were songs that had been sung at countless funerals over the years. Then her Auntie Nellie, an old lady now, began to sing a song that had all the older people joining in. It was an old Irish rebel song and it made Maura feel sick.
The people they were singing about had murdered the man they had all come to bury, if only they knew it.
Oh, I am a merry ploughboy,
And I plough the fields by day,
But I’m leaving home tomorrow morn
To join the IRA.
Maura looked at Geoffrey, standing by their mother, and knew by his face that he was thinking the same thing as herself. Well, the same people would be getting rid of him soon and she thanked God for it.
She swallowed back the rest of the brandy, then made a decision. She was going to get Willy Templeton and she was going to take him to her house. Then she was going to have mad and passionate sex. It was the only way, to her mind, to end a day like today.
She lurched away from the wall and went to find him.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Maura had been teaching Roy the ropes slowly over the last few months, until now, in January, he was finally getting an understanding of all the different aspects of the businesses. She had handed the docklands over the William Templeton. All she had to do there now was turn up for monthly meetings. She had found herself concentrating more and more on the family businesses as time went on - the clubs, betting shops, and the newer borderline businesses, such as the Mortgage and Investment Corporation that Michael had set up in 1984. Today she was trying to explain all this to Roy, as she wanted him to come in and take a large amount of the donkey work from her.
‘The rub is, Roy, we give mortgages through our own lending company. Now the company itself has no actual investors, so we sell our clients to other companies, such as the Bank of Kuwait, et cetera. It’s pretty simple really. That way we make a quick profit, and if the client gets into difficulties with their payments, then they can foreclose. That way we never have to take anyone to court. It’s all out of our hands.’
‘Sounds simple enough.’ Roy’s voice was worried and Maura guessed that he had not really grasped what she was saying.
‘It is. That’s the beauty of it. We advertise in the local papers, offering everything from small personal loans to remortgages. You’d be surprised at the number of people out there who want to “unlock their capital”, as the advertisers put it. We offer from five to a hundred grand, secured against their properties. Even bought council houses. Literally anything. Our main aim, though, is to get the first-time buyers. We’re already renting office space with a series of estate agents. That way, when people see the property they want, we’re there waiting for the poor buggers. It’s a doddle, Roy. You’ll soon pick it up, mate.’
Roy frowned as he listened to her speak.
‘And this is legal, Maws?’
His voice was sceptical and she laughed. ‘Yeah, it’s legal, all right. Hard as that is to believe.’
‘What if they can’t afford the place they want?’
‘That’s easily remedied. You can borrow three times your earnings, so if a youngster comes in and he earns, say, twelve grand a year, for argument’s sake, then the borrower will tell him to bring in some “moody” pay slips, say one for a week when he did a load of overtime, so it looks like he earns sixteen grand a year. So instead of giving him a mortgage for thirty-six grand he gets one for forty-eight grand. I know it sounds bent, but believe me, Roy, banks and building societies do it all the time.’
‘I see.’
Maura lit a cigarette and continued. ‘Now about the council estates. I’ve extended the areas for the tally men. And that’s another misnomer. The way that the law works, you can lend people money providing they buy goods from you. You can’t under any circumstances offer them money straight off. What the tally men do is, they knock on someone’s door and then offer them a continental quilt set at, say, two quid a week. The quilt set costs a score so you know that you have five weeks to get them to borrow off you.
‘After a few weeks, the tally man then offers them a loan of maybe fifty quid, to be paid back at a fiver a week. The person takes up the offer and they get the money on the spot. They then pay back eighty quid. A clear profit of thirty quid. I know it doesn’t sound much like that, but when you consider we make about three thousand loans a week it soon mounts up. Then they’re offered a ton. The tally man holds out the hundred pounds and nine times out of ten the temptation is too strong. They go for it.’
‘But what if they can’t afford to pay the money back, Maws?’
‘Then we send the big boys round. Some of the larger council estates are into us for a small fortune. And before you ask, it’s perfectly legal. Getting into debt is now socially acceptable. You want that TV or video, you get it on the never-never. Big stores offer credit, everyone offers credit, it’s like a public service these days. Even the social security has jumped on the band wagon. They borrow money now as well!’
Roy grinned but his big moon face was bewildered by it all. ‘Can I take these files home and study them?’
‘Of course you can. The sooner you learn the better.’
He picked up the files and put them into his briefcase.
‘The bloke from Jersey is just about ready to shift the gold.’
‘Don’t you think that it’s a bit quick, Maws? Michael was looking at leaving it for five or six years.’
‘Well, Michael ain’t here now, is he? I make the decisions and I want shot of it. The bloke’s popping over at the weekend. I want you at the meet with me, OK?’
‘Sure, Maws. Whatever you say.’
She went to the coffee percolator and replenished their cups. Passing one to Roy, she smiled at him sadly.
‘Have you seen anything of Mother?’
Roy sipped the lukewarm liquid and shrugged.
‘She was pretty cut up about Geoffrey.’
‘I guessed as much.’
‘Why didn’t you go to the funeral, Maws?’
‘Because I’m not a hypocrite, that’s why. I would have spat on his grave.’
‘Have the old Bill been in touch?’
Maura shook her head vigorously, sending her hair rioting around her face.
‘Not so much as a hello, kiss me arse or anything. And that’s just how I like it!’
‘But don’t you think that’s strange?’
‘Not really. They know that we do business with the Irish. They probably think he double crossed them or something. To be honest, I don’t give a damn. If they had anything they’d be battering the door down, but I’m too wily for the old Bill. I have more plants in the police stations in London than there are in the Royal Botanical Gardens! If they walked in here now they’d find nothing. Nothing that they could nick me for. Me and Mickey only ever made one mistake and that was Geoffrey. Only you and I know the score now. Without one of us talking they ain’t got nothing. So relax.’
‘Well, you ain’t got any worries where I’m concerned.’
‘I know that, Bruv. That’s why I’m trusting you with all this.’
Roy smiled at her, pleased to be so well thought of.
‘Right then, Roy.’ Maura checked her watch. ‘I’ve got a meet with a firm of ‘blaggers” from Liverpool. I’d better g
et on me way. It’s ten-thirty now. If I don’t leave soon I’ll catch the lunchtime traffic.’
Roy stood up and stretched. ‘Okey doke. Sure you don’t want me to come with you?’
‘No, thanks. I’ve been dealing with this little firm for about eight years now. They’re kosher. See you later, mate.’
Roy left the house and Maura lit herself another cigarette. Roy was working out all right. He couldn’t express himself very well, but he was shrewd enough. He was getting the hang of everything. She had given Leslie the betting shops for a while. He was doing a good job. Garry and Lee were finally getting their act together. They had got a bit lairy after Michael’s funeral but she had nipped that in the bud. All in all, considering what had happened, things were going quite well.
She finished her cigarette and got ready for the meet with Tommy Rifkind. It would be the first with him since Michael’s death. He had come to the funeral to pay his respects, but now Maura had to deal with him alone. For a few seconds she wondered if it was all worth it. But as usual she pushed the thought away. The least she could do was carry on, for Michael’s sake. He had built this little empire up from nothing, from being a bookie’s runner at barely ten to a breaker in his teens. She owed her brother this. As she owed him everything. And if he was watching over her, as she sometimes fancied that he was, she hoped that he was pleased with how she was carrying on without him.
When Maura got to the club in Dean Street, Tommy Rifkind was already inside waiting for her. She showed him up to her office immediately. Like herself he was a busy person. He had his number two with him, Joss Campion, a six feet six inch rugby player with the ugliest face Maura had ever seen. Tommy, on the other hand, was five foot eight with a slim, lithe build. He also had the darkest brown eyes that Maura had ever seen on a light-skinned man. Michael had always said that he had a touch of the tarbrush in him. Inside the office the men sat down and Maura smiled at them.
‘Sorry to keep you. Get yourselves comfortable and I’ll organise some coffee.’
A little while later they were all drinking hot coffee laced with brandy, Tommy’s favourite. Joss Campion had poured his into his saucer and after blowing on the hot liquid loudly was now slurping it from the saucer. He was completely unaware of all the noise he was making. Maura had to bite her lip as Tommy rolled his eyes at her.
‘Joss, would you rather I put the saucer on the floor for you?’
Joss hung his enormous head like a child.
‘Sorry.’
‘I apologise, Maura. Joss’s mother never quite managed to get him completely house trained, you see.’
She laughed. ‘That’s all right. My brother Benny was much the same.’
‘I’m glad you understand. My wife won’t have him in the house.’ Tommy smiled. ‘Well, Maura, down to business. I have a little proposition to put to you.’ She nodded. ‘I’ve acquired some information on a bank in South London. The pull from it will be around two hundred thousand. As usual we’ll give you twenty per cent, on the usual terms.’
Maura licked her lips as she thought.
‘How many cars would you want?’
‘Two. One a high-powered vehicle, the other a nondescript Volvo estate. You know the type of thing, a family car.’
Maura nodded. ‘OK. I’ll put the word out on the street. I can supply “shooters” if you need them.’ Tommy shook his head. ‘In that case, all I’ll need is the times and the date. And I do ask that you keep the violence to a minimum. It’s not just you, Tommy. I tell all “blaggers” the same thing.’
He smiled.
‘This will be as sweet as a nut, as you cockneys say. You’ll be given the information seven days before the off.’
‘Great. That was short and sweet!’
‘I try to please. By the way, I’m so sorry about Geoffrey, Maura. So soon after Michael.’ He opened his arms in a gesture of helplessness.
‘Yeah, well. These things happen. I’m in full control now and nothing has changed really. I’ll run the streets as they’ve always been run. I won’t take any nonsense.’
Tommy was quite aware of the underlying threat and nodded as if he was answering a question.
‘I respect that, Maura, and you have nothing to worry about from me and mine.’
She laughed heartily, but when she spoke, her voice was icy cold.
‘I know.’
Tommy felt a prickle of fear on the back of his neck. In Liverpool he was the Daddy. What he said invariably went. He prided himself on not being frightened of any man, yet this tall, beautiful and intelligent woman sitting opposite scared the life out of him.
He had never wondered, like many people, why Maura was not married. There were rumours that she was a lesbian, but he knew different. It was simply that the man who would take her on, her and all that she entailed, had not been born yet.
He cleared his throat.
‘Did you receive the wreaths I sent?’
‘Yes. Michael would have appreciated it. He always liked you, Tommy.’
‘I expect you miss him.’
‘Oh, yeah, I miss him.’ She stood up abruptly to let him know that the meeting was over. She held out her hand and he shook it gently.
‘I’ll be in touch then.’
‘OK.’
Joss smiled at Maura as he left and she forced herself to smile back. When they had left the office she lit herself a cigarette and, opening the drawer in her desk, took out a photo of Michael and herself. They had been having a drink in the club downstairs and Leslie had snapped them laughing together. It turned out to be a beautiful photograph and she had had it enlarged. She sat staring at Michael’s handsome face. Oh, she missed him all right. Desperately.
Sarah Ryan sat at her kitchen table sipping a cup of steaming hot tea. In front of her, spread out on the table, were the papers from a file she had found in Geoffrey’s old bedroom. He must have hidden them there at some point before he died. She knew that she had been meant to find them. Written in them, in Geoffrey’s large bold script, was all the information he had gathered about Michael and Maura over the years. As Sarah read them a seething rage gathered inside her. Now she knew why Geoffrey was dead. Four sons she had buried, Anthony when he was no more than a baby. What was she to do with the information in front of her? She could take it to the police now and get it over with, but it incriminated all her sons, both living and dead. She had heard through the grapevine that Roy was now Maura’s number two, whatever that meant. Janine had told her all about it a few days ago. She sighed. If she did take this little lot to the police, the whole family would be put behind bars.
She picked up the papers and took them upstairs to her bedroom. She hid them in her wardrobe. She would leave it for a while until she had thought it all through.
She looked out of her bedroom window and down on to the street. She saw Margaret walking along with her mother. If only Maura had turned out like her, Sarah would be a happy woman. If only she had not met up with that bloody policeman, that Terry Petherick. If she had got herself pregnant by anyone else, it would all have blown over. Then a thought struck her. That’s who she could take the papers to if the day ever came when she decided to make them known to someone. She smiled to herself nastily. That would keep it in the family, so to speak. If she was going to expose her daughter, then that’s who she would expose her to!
She clasped her hands together in a gesture of prayer and whispered: ‘Oh, Jesus in Heaven, in the Kingdom of goodness and light, help me to make the right decision.’
There was one thing that Sarah was sure of: Maura was capable of anything, even capable of hurting her own mother if she had to . . .
Janine was sitting drinking coffee with Roy. The years had not been kind to her. She looked much older than forty-eight and her face held a permanent frown. Benny Anthony burst into the kitchen.
‘Hello, Dad!’ He was surprised to find his father at home and it showed in his voice.
‘Hello, son.’ Roy’s voice was
warm. ‘No school then?’
‘Nah. There’s a teachers’ strike on.’
Janine butted in to their conversation.
‘Get upstairs and do some of your homework. Your dad’s busy.’
Benny’s face dropped.
‘Oh, Mum!’ He was whining. ‘I hardly ever see me dad.’
Janine’s voice rose in a screech. ‘You do what I tell you!’
Roy cut her off. ‘For crying out loud, Janine! Keep your hair on.’
She leapt from her seat. ‘Oh, that’s right! Shout at me in front of Benny. Go on, Roy. Turn him into an animal like you and that stinking sister of yours.’
He sighed. ‘You’re beginning to sound like a broken record. Do you know that? The same old shit is dug up and pulled out, day after day.’
Janine was standing in front of him. Her face was a mask of hatred.
‘You won’t get your claws into him.’ She pointed to where Benny was standing watching the fight between his parents. ‘Oh, no. Not you or that whore of a sister of yours. She’s already turned my Carla against me. I’ll see you both dead first!’ She ended on another screech.
‘Calm yourself down, you dozy bitch. You’re frightening the boy.’
Janine began to laugh.
‘Me! Me frighten him? That’s a laugh. His father’s working for the biggest whoremonger and murderess in London and you accuse me of frightening the boy! Are you sleeping with her, Roy? I heard that Mickey was.’
He got up from his seat and slapped her across the kitchen. She fell to the floor, a large red mark already appearing on her face. She put her hand to her cheek silently, afraid now of a Roy she did not know.
‘You stinking bitch! That’s the last time you badmouth me or my family. Do you hear me? How the hell have I stood you all these years, with your miserable face and your slutty ways? Well, you’ve ballsed yourself right up now because I’m going. I’m gonna leave you to pickle in your own juices, Janine, and I’m taking the boy with me.