by Jessie Keane
‘Of course it’s Joey’s,’ said Aysha, taking the other bar stool and going red in the face. ‘How can you ask me that?’
‘Sorry,’ said Shauna sarkily. ‘It’s just that I hoped it could be someone else, that’s all. The postman or the milkman. The dustman would be an improvement on Joey fucking Minghella.’
Aysha sat down and looked across the bar top at her mother. ‘Don’t be like that. I love him, Mum.’
‘He’s easy on the eye, I’ll give him that,’ snorted Shauna. ‘Not that he’ll stay that way when Connor gets to hear about this.’
‘I don’t want him hurt!’ Aysha burst out.
‘Have you told Joey about this? About you being up the duff?’
‘Yeah, I have.’
‘And he’s run a mile?’
‘Of course not! He wants us to get married. We’re going to get married.’
‘Your father,’ said Shauna, ‘is going to be very disappointed in you.’
‘Oh come on, Mum!’ Aysha beat a fist on the counter in exasperation. ‘That’s nothing new, is it? He’s always been like that with me, and you know it! Besides, I’m not his little girl any more, or yours. I’m a woman. I love Joey and I’m fucking well marrying him. There’s nothing you can do about it.’
Shauna was still sitting at the kitchen counter an hour later when Connor came home. Usually, she would have the evening meal simmering on the stove by now. Connor looked around the kitchen, but there was no sign of any food coming. Shauna just sat there, staring at the counter.
‘What’s up?’ he asked.
‘If I tell you, don’t kick off.’
Connor stiffened. He’d had a whole day of aggravation: lots of late-payers to be chased, and Kylie had dumped him over the phone, telling him in tears that she was sick of him and his fucking family, then ringing off. He wasn’t too bothered, but she’d kept the ring that’d cost him one boring afternoon’s browsing around jeweller’s shops and a hefty seven hundred pounds. Now, something else. This day just kept getting better and better.
‘Why should I kick off? What is it?’ he asked.
‘Aysha . . .’ Shauna was shaking her head.
‘What about her? She OK?’
‘She’s pregnant. And it’s Joey Minghella’s.’
Connor sat down on a bar stool. ‘You’re fucking kidding me.’
‘No, I’m not. Silly little fool thinks she’s in love with him. They’re going to get married, she said.’
‘He’s a dosser. He’s useless.’ Connor recalled Joey’s knife attack on Tobias, who was a cunt but hadn’t deserved that. He’d been happy to kick Joey’s unstable arse out the door. Now here the little bastard was again, lingering like a bad smell.
‘I told her,’ said Shauna.
Connor stood up, began pacing restlessly. ‘This ain’t happening,’ he said.
‘Really? Looks like it is.’
‘No,’ said Connor, and headed for the door. ‘Never in a million bloody years.’
‘Connor,’ said Shauna.
‘What?’ He stopped in the doorway, turned back.
‘I just wondered. How’s Kylie? Haven’t seen her lately.’
Connor was still for a moment. Then he said, stony-faced: ‘Mum – fucking well butt out of my love life, OK? I’m not ten. And for your information – Kylie is history,’ and left.
Shauna felt grim satisfaction. Something had worked out, after all.
83
That bitch is going to fire my arse now, thought Suki as she stomped back down the stairs, hardly caring whether Donna heard her this time or not. She was shaking with emotion, shuddering with rage. She knew how this would go: Claire would tell Donna to get rid of her, and that would be the end of it.
She carried on doing her job, knowing that at any moment she was going to be collared by the manageress of the club and given the order of the boot. She waited a whole week for the axe to fall, but it didn’t happen. She didn’t see Claire down on the club floor, either. Then one evening when the place was busy, Donna called her to one side.
‘Claire wants to see you in her office,’ she said.
‘Oh. Right.’
Suki went up there, past Donna’s little office and into the bigger one, the owner’s office. Claire was sitting there behind a big walnut desk with a tooled red leather top, her hands folded in front of her. She stared up at Suki as she entered.
‘Come in,’ she said. ‘Sit down.’
Suki sat and crossed her legs, one foot twitching like a metronome. Unblinking, she gazed back at the woman who had callously abandoned her all those years ago. Left her newborn baby on the steps of a convent. If not for Dave and Josephine and Ginny Vance, what would have become of her? She couldn’t believe anyone would be so callous. So cruel.
‘My God,’ said Claire, and her voice trembled.
‘What?’ Suki was steaming mad with this woman. This bitch.
‘You look like me,’ said Claire.
Suki shrugged her shoulders. She wasn’t going to make this easy for her. Fuck her.
Claire took a deep breath, moved her hands. They shook, Suki noticed without sympathy.
‘How did you find me?’ asked Claire.
‘My aunt died. Well, not my aunt, was she? But she died. And then I read the note she left me, explaining things. You dumped me with the Sisters of Mercy in New York.’
Claire shook her head. ‘That was Gina. She took you there. She used to be manageress here. She tried to talk me out of giving you away, but in the end she could see that it was no use, I just couldn’t cope. You know, I always thought,’ said Claire. Then she stopped, took a breath. Started again. ‘I always thought that if I ever saw you again, you would look like . . . like them.’
Them? Suki wondered what the hell Claire was on about. ‘Where’s my father?’ she asked, her eyes hostile. ‘Didn’t he want me either?’
‘What?’
‘Who is he? Where is he?’
Claire was shaking her head now. ‘Wait. Stop. You don’t understand.’
‘So explain to me. And what do you mean – “them”?’
‘I had you,’ said Claire, and her voice was so low that Suki had to lean forward to hear the words. ‘I had you right here. Upstairs. Gina was manageress, and Sylvester owned this club. They were my friends. When he died, he left the club to me.’
‘What, am I his then? This Sylvester? Is he my father?’
Claire shook her head. ‘God, this is hard.’
‘It’s hard for you?’ Suki let out a sour laugh. ‘What about me?’
‘I’ve never spoken about this. Not before. I didn’t think I would ever have to.’
‘So who knocked you up? Who was it? You said them. Christ! Was it a threesome or something?’
‘Suki.’ Claire paused. ‘That’s a pretty name.’
‘Yeah. My mother gave it to me. My real one. The one who cared for me. Not you.’
Claire flinched at that. ‘I’m glad someone cared for you.’
There was such heartfelt sincerity in Claire’s face and voice when she said that. Suki felt her throat close. No. She was not going to cry. She refused to.
‘Good job someone did, yeah?’ she snapped.
Claire nodded, looked down at her hands and then up at Suki’s face. ‘The fact is, Suki, that I was raped.’
Suki felt her breath catch in her chest. ‘You what? But . . . by who?’
‘That doesn’t matter. Not just one. It was two men.’ Claire paused, gulped down a breath. ‘I was a virgin when it happened. It was shocking. Brutal. And when I found I was pregnant with you, I just . . . panicked. I was horrified. Terrified. I wanted to deny it was even happening, and when you were born . . . it was just a nightmare. I couldn’t even look at you. Couldn’t bear to.’
Suki stared at Claire. She couldn’t think what to say. The anger drained out of her like water from a bath and left her chilled. Claire had painted a brief but ghastly picture of awful abuse, and it knocked Suki sideway
s.
‘Oh God,’ said Suki, and stumbled to her feet.
‘Suki . . .’ Claire stood up too, her eyes filling with tears. ‘Wait, don’t—’
But Suki had already blundered to the door and gone.
84
Joey Minghella had been pissed off, naturally, when first he heard that Aysha was in the family way, but he could see now that there would be advantages to this. He told Dad his news. Frank Minghella was lying on the sofa watching the racing in trousers, braces and a vest on a warm spring Saturday afternoon. Like Joey, he quickly figured out the wider implications.
‘You got a good deal there, son,’ he said, a blue cloud of cigarette smoke surrounding him as he reached for another can of beer from the six-pack on the floor. He scratched his fat belly luxuriously and winked. ‘Flynn lot are loaded. You’ll be on a damned good thing if you can get her up the aisle.’
Joey looked at his dad. Marital advice from Frank Minghella wasn’t all that. Frank’s own wife and the mother of four boys – of whom Joey was the eldest – had gone out to the shops one day and never come back. Nobody had been even faintly surprised. Frank was idle, Joey knew it. Idle, dirty, always on the scrounge for handouts. But Joey thought his dad was right about this being a good thing.
‘I’ve asked her to marry me,’ said Joey.
Frank snapped the tab off the beer then paused, looking up at his son. ‘She say yes?’
‘Damn right,’ said Joey. Girls worshipped him, he was so good-looking. Damned sure she’d said yes.
‘Then the world is your oyster, boy, and good luck to you.’ Frank took a swig of beer and belched.
Joey went off down the pub to meet his mates that night in a good mood. Granted, he wasn’t keen to get married – what bloke in his right mind was? – but it would work out fine. Connor Flynn couldn’t go on bypassing him for jobs or treating him like dirt if he was his brother-in-law. This would turn the tide. The work would come back his way, the sun would shine, Aysha would drop the kid and she could look after it, no way was he turning into one of these ‘New Man’ types and changing nappies and crawling out of bed to give the little bugger feeds. He could carry on clubbing, popping some E – he’d be able to afford all he could handle when he hooked up with the Flynns. Everything would be just fine.
That’s what he thought, but when he was walking across the pub car park heading for a relaxing evening, a game of snooker, a few beers, he was grabbed from behind and hauled around a line of cars, out of sight.
‘What the fuck?’ he demanded, his voice high with fear.
His attacker flung Joey away from him, into the bushes. The thorns scraped at Joey’s arms and he let out a yell then bounded back to his feet, spinning around to face whoever had jumped him.
Fuck! It was Connor Flynn. Joey half-started forward, then thought better of it.
Connor indicated he should go on, approach. ‘Oh, you want some of this? Come on then, you little bastard.’
Joey felt sick with fear, but he thought of Dad’s words of wisdom. Connor couldn’t hurt him. If he did that, then it was Aysha who would feel the pain of it. The Flynns seemed a tight-knit family, unlike the Minghellas, who didn’t much care if they saw each other from one year to the next.
‘Christ, you nearly gave me a seizure,’ he said, grinning past his nerves. He didn’t think Connor would hurt him, but he wasn’t sure. Connor was as big as a truck and packed with muscle. If he hit you, he’d knock you clean into the middle of next week. His dad being a pro boxer, he had probably taught Connor how to hit for maximum damage.
‘Damn, wouldn’t that solve all our problems,’ said Connor. ‘You little prick, is this true? You got Aysha up the duff?’
Joey swallowed hard. He was going to have to choose his words with care and he knew it. ‘Yeah. It’s true. We’re in love, Connor. We got carried away. I’m sorry. But I want to do the decent thing by her. I want to marry Aysha.’
‘Sure you do. You’d be on a bloody good squeeze, wouldn’t you? Marrying into the Flynns.’
‘It’s not like that,’ said Joey, although it was.
‘Then what is it like?’
‘I told you. I love her. Really.’
Connor stepped forward and loomed over Joey, who forced himself not to back away. The look in Connor’s eyes was terrifying.
‘I ought to beat the shit out of you, you little tosspot,’ he hissed.
‘Go on then!’ snapped Joey, bracing himself for it. If Connor battered him, this was going to hurt. But Aysha would see him as a fallen hero; she would be furious with Connor and firmly on Joey’s side.
Connor stared at him coldly. Then he shook his head. ‘No. You don’t get me that easily. But you know what, prick? You better behave your fucking self. You better treat Aysha like a queen. Because if I hear you’ve stepped out of line, trust me, one way or another, I’ll be coming for you.’
85
Claire was in her office with the radio playing a Bon Jovi track when Suki came back days later and knocked on the door.
‘Can we talk?’ she said.
Claire looked up at Suki – her daughter – and thought that she looked strained. And no wonder. All this was as big a shock to Suki as it was for Claire herself. Claire had been talking to Donna about Suki in the meantime, asking what she thought of her.
‘She’s a real hard worker,’ Donna had told her. ‘And popular with the other girls. No bitching, nothing like that. She’s fitting right in, no problem.’
‘Of course we can talk,’ Claire told Suki.
Suki came in, closed the door behind her, took a seat.
There was an awkward silence.
‘I don’t know where to start,’ said Suki, her eyes probing Claire’s face.
‘Me neither,’ said Claire.
‘I . . . I had no idea it would be something like that. I thought I was a mistake you wanted to brush aside. I didn’t realize it was that.’
‘How could you?’ said Claire.
Suki’s eyes were suddenly brimming with tears. ‘And you were a virgin? That’s awful. You must have been so frightened.’
‘I was.’
‘Did you know them? I mean . . .’
‘Can we not talk about them?’ said Claire with a shudder. ‘Their name was Cleaver. That’s all I can say. Later maybe I’ll tell you. But for now . . .’
‘No. Sure. I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry,’ said Suki, the tears spilling over. She wiped at them irritably. She sniffed. ‘I just wanted to say, look – I’ll leave. You don’t have to see me or speak to me. I understand now. I really do. And I won’t stay.’
Claire’s eyes were filling too. The girl’s sincerity moved her. This whole thing was too much. She thought of her own family and how over the years she had blocked them from her mind because she had to do that, had to keep them safe. Now here was Eva and Pally’s grandchild, and Trace’s niece, part of their family. And it was so tragic. They would never know her, or she them. Suki got to her feet.
‘I’m sorry – real sorry – that you went through that,’ she gulped. ‘I truly am. And please believe me when I say that I wish you well.’
‘Suki . . .’ Claire started, getting up.
‘It’s OK. Goodbye, Claire,’ said Suki, and she left the room.
Suki was at her apartment a week later, doing the hoovering and wondering where she was going with her life. She’d left the club, and she knew she had to find another job soon, to keep a roof over her head.
She almost didn’t hear the knock at the door over the roar of the Hoover. When she did, flustered and hot, she opened it and got a shock to see Claire Milo standing there holding a paper bag. She stared in surprise, and Claire gave a tentative smile.
‘I brought Danish.’ She held up the bag. ‘Can I come in? And will you please come back to work?’
86
Another fight, another victory. Josh was getting tired of it all, but it paid, and paid in bundles. The Greek boys, the Constantinou brothers Spiro
and Nikos, had become firm friends of his, and they came on back to congratulate him after the fight. They’d won big again. He was cut, bleeding, aching. Tomorrow all the bruises would come out. He was thinking about going home, to England. Thinking about seeing Connor. And . . . yeah, all right, Aysha too. But . . . there was Shauna.
‘Come on, we’ll go out and celebrate your win,’ they said.
‘Guys . . .’ started Josh. He didn’t want to go anywhere, not tonight. He wanted to fall into a nice big soft bed, and sleep – that was all. Maybe he really was getting too old for the fight game. But as usual they jollied him along.
‘No arguments! Come on, get washed up and dressed.’
‘They’re in,’ said Vicky, Suki’s friend, who was a gorgeous and very loud native New York brunette.
A ripple of interest went up from the other girls. Suki too. She was happy to be back in the club among all her pals, and . . . she couldn’t believe Claire had come and begged her to return. But she had. And she loved it.
Suki was learning more about her mother day by day, learning that everyone here loved and respected her, that she was The Boss, but a kind and benevolent one. She was learning that Claire was quiet, but not shy; strong as iron, but never aggressive. That she was admirable, likeable, with a quick smile and a gentle way with anyone in trouble.
She was so happy to be near to Claire. Grateful, too. She thought that a lesser woman would have turned her back on her for a second time, but Claire was something special. Her mother was special, she had to correct herself over and over. Not Claire. Her mother. Her mother had extended a welcoming hand even when Suki’s very existence must have brought unbelievable pain to her. That took both grace and guts, in Suki’s opinion.
‘In? Who?’ asked Suki.
‘The Greek boys. Spiro and Nikos. You seen them yet?’
Suki shook her head. She had never set eyes on the Constantinou boys and she was curious.
‘What are they like?’ she asked Vicky.
‘They’re big players. Rich enough to indulge themselves. The oldest one, Spiro, is kind of cute I think.’