by Martina Cole
Sharon was well aware that as a wife for her son, she had always been lacking in Lesley Scott’s eyes. But then, as she told herself over and over again, no one would have ever been good enough for him. At first, Lesley seemed to like her but that had changed as the years went on. Now she seemed to blame Sharon for Lenny’s involvement in the Life – for leading him astray somehow. She always had a reason to criticise Sharon these days. She had tried to rise above it. When Lesley Scott had basically questioned her parenting skills to her face, and found them sorely lacking, Sharon’s natural kindness had come to the fore and she had tried her best to build bridges. Well, Isambard Kingdom Brunel couldn’t build a bridge strong enough to cover this latest fucking aggravation and no one could dispute that. Least of all Lesley, Hail Mary, fucking Scott.
Now it seemed to Sharon that she had lost Ray. He was a man of few words, not really given to public displays of affection. She feared that he would see her as damaged goods, and who could blame him? Certainly not her. But she loved him and she could not deny that it would devastate her to lose him. The shock was wearing off and the enormity of the situation was sinking in. She had to try and make something good come out of this but how she was supposed to do that, she really didn’t know. She cried bitter tears.
Chapter One Hundred and Seventeen
Reggie and Barton King delivered Big Lenny to the lock-up garage. None of them were happy about it, but what could they do? Sharon was Ray’s squeeze and the man needed to be taught a serious lesson. He needed to be shown that he could not use everyone around him for his own ends, least of all his son’s widow.
As they walked into the lock-up they were without any idea as to what Ray was contemplating. Then they saw the array of tools on the bench and, despite themselves, they were worried. This looked far too professional. Clearly Ray was a man who had done this before, a man who was at home with his surroundings. A man who looked more than ready for whatever was going to happen.
But they delivered Big Lenny Scott nonetheless.
Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen
Lesley Scott was mortified. How could she admit that her husband, who, despite his faults, she loved, had been lusting after her son’s wife? She had believed the girl would be good for her boy, would make him into a better person. Lesley had long concealed a fear that her son, Lenny, wasn’t everything she hoped he was. She had been frightened by his natural leanings, fearful of where they would lead him. She would never voice it but she had known him better than anyone else ever would or could – especially that girl he had married. He was her baby, her only child, and she had always looked out for him.
Big Lenny had fucked up big time, and there was nothing she could do about that. But she was determined her grandsons would always be within her fucking orbit, no matter what she had to do to achieve it. She had to think and make plans for the future. Her grandsons were never going to be in the hands of that northern cunt, she would make damn sure of that as long as she lived. They would never forget their father. Her son. Her baby. Her life.
Chapter One Hundred and Nineteen
Big Lenny had been picked up from a pub in Bow. The landlord had been happy to serve him up just to get him off his premises. He was also pleased with the large drink he had been given for his trouble. Big Lenny was not a man who endeared himself to people.
As they went into the lock-up, there was an air of worry. It felt stifling even though it was a cool night and there was something about the look on Ray Donovan’s face that seemed almost demonic. Reggie and Barton had expected him to be angry, to mete out a punishment, but this seemed wholly inappropriate.
Barton took in the instruments, so lovingly set out, and said loudly, ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake. Jack Johnson will not be pleased.’
Ray shrugged, unconcerned. ‘I don’t give a fuck what Jack or anyone else thinks.’
Reggie sighed at the inevitable. In all truth, he wasn’t that bothered what would happen to Big Lenny; he had asked for it, as far as he was concerned.
As drunk as Lenny was, he wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t take in what was going on around him, and it took Reggie and Barton a few seconds to restrain him. He was begging now, his fear making him almost incoherent. He was forced to sit on an old wooden kitchen chair and he was then restrained. He felt the gag being forced into his mouth, then Ray Donovan was duct-taping his mouth tightly. Lenny was absolutely terrified now and he felt a warm trickle as he wet himself. He was drunk, but he sobered up quickly as he saw what he had got himself into. Ray was humming as he put a light to a small blowtorch and looked his enemy straight in the eye.
‘You, Lenny, won’t be raping anyone again. I can promise you that much.’
Chapter One Hundred and Twenty
Big Lenny had been missing for two days and Lesley Scott was at her wits’ end. She had swallowed her pride and, finally, here she was at her daughter-in-law’s house. As she stepped over the threshold she had to admit that Sharon looked very pale and wan.
She followed her silently through to the big kitchen that overlooked the back garden. It was a pleasant room and the garden itself looked wonderful. Lesley thought of all the good times she had experienced there with her son and her grandsons. She was not including Sharon in any of her reverie; Sharon was now the enemy as far as she was concerned. In a way she had always been that. After all, she had taken her beloved son from her at a young age. Sharon seemed to breed controversy and trouble. Now she had bewitched her husband, her own father-in-law, and therein lay all the hurt and upset.
Sharon sat at the wooden table and waited patiently for Lesley Scott to seat herself. Lesley was eyeing her, and Sharon could feel the controlled jealousy coming from the woman in invisible waves. Sharon noticed that she was holding a rosary in her hands, and fingering it absently. She could imagine all the prayers and demands that were being sent heavenwards by this woman before her. Lesley set great store in her relationship with God. She felt she had unlimited access to the man in question and that she lived her life by His lore. Hypocritical old bitch that she was.
Sharon waited patiently. There was no way she was going to start this conversation. Lesley Scott seemed to understand this, and she was thrown by the girl’s calmness and detachment.
‘You know why I’m here.’
Sharon still didn’t answer her; all she did was shrug her slender shoulders indifferently.
‘I want to know where my husband is.’
Sharon shrugged once more. ‘I don’t know and, quite honestly, I don’t care.’
Lesley had aged overnight and Sharon was sorry for what had befallen the woman, but she saw her as her enemy. If Lenny had not died like he had, this woman would still be dictating her life in some way, looking down her nose at them.
‘You caused this, Sharon.’
Sharon Scott looked steadily at the woman before her and swallowed down the anger that was building up inside her at an alarming rate. Lesley had to know the truth of it as there was no way anyone could pretend otherwise given the circumstances, no matter how much she might want to.
‘Have you nothing to say to me, Sharon?’
She shook her head slowly, afraid to speak in case the canker inside her burst and she completely lost the plot.
Lesley Scott sat back in her chair now, sure of her ground and that she would get her ten-pence worth in if it was the last thing she did in this life of hers.
‘Since I lost my son, you have done everything in your power to keep me away from those boys. You have practically ignored me these last few years, and now you have that Ray in your bed I suppose that will be the end of us, won’t it? They will be calling that northern ponce “Dad” before we know it.’
Still Sharon didn’t say a word.
Lesley carried on – as if she was chatting about the weather, so calm was her voice.
‘I know you set your cap at my Lenny. Your own husband’s father. What happened? Got fed up with him, did you? Wanted a newer model, a younger man
, is that it? Not content with taking my son, you wanted his father as well . . .’
The blow that came nearly took Lesley Scott out of her chair and the shock and the pain was almost overpowering. Sharon was out of her chair and, unzipping her tracksuit top, she pulled it off and showed the woman the purple bruises covering her arms and back.
‘Does this look like I wanted it, like I wasn’t resisting? Does it? He raped me—’ She swallowed noisily before saying quickly, ‘Your precious fucking Lenny tried to rape me . . . I’ve had murders with him for ages. Always round here telling me how I needed a man to look after me. I wouldn’t have touched that filthy old cunt if the bomb dropped and he was the last man on earth, you stupid, stupid fucking woman!’
Lesley Scott was staring at her daughter-in-law with such venom and hatred that Sharon took a step away from her.
‘You must have encouraged him! He’s old enough to be your father. He was a decent man, a good man, until you set your fucking cap at him.’
The fight left Sharon suddenly. She picked up the tracksuit top and put it back on wearily. This woman, this deluded woman, was a waste of space. It was pointless talking to her.
‘I have no idea where Big Lenny might be. Pissed somewhere, probably, frightened that he might get found out. He wasn’t that complimentary about you and your sex life – or lack of it shall I say. He’s probably shacked up with some young Tom somewhere.’
Sharon couldn’t resist the last barb even though she knew it was a cheap shot. She was well aware that Big Lenny was getting his just deserts and she was glad of it. She wanted him to hurt as he had made her hurt. She was toughening up at last and that was no bad thing; in fact it was about time. The world was a scary place for women, she understood that now. Oh, how she would like to burst that sanctimonious bitch’s bubble about her son’s real leanings. But she wouldn’t do it. She had to at least leave her some illusions. She just wasn’t about to admit that she knew Lesley’s husband was being paid out for his deeds. Pleading ignorance was the byword these days and she would abide by that rule.
‘I hope you never know another day’s peace, you vicious little whore. That will be my prayer, morning, noon and night – that you get your fucking comeuppance, young lady.’
Sharon laughed bitterly. ‘I might have known you would bring God into this. Well, He hates hypocritical old bags just as much as everyone else does. Now fuck off out of my house before I pick you up by the scuff of your scrawny neck and turf you out myself.’
She watched the woman walking away and she felt the urge to plant her foot firmly in Lesley Scott’s skinny, bony backside. Who the hell did she think she was?
When Lesley had left, Sharon went to the phone and rang her mother’s house.
‘Bring the boys over, Mum. The sooner we all get back to normal, the better.’
She felt better then, stronger. It was as if Lesley Scott had healed her somehow with her vitriol and her delusions. She knew she had to get her life back, for the sake of her boys and for herself. She remembered how once, at school, the English teacher had said that it wasn’t what happened to you, it was how you dealt with it. She couldn’t remember where the quote was from but it was apt. She wasn’t going to let this latest trouble destroy her. She was going to get on with it, make a good life for her and her boys, and she would get even with Lesley Scott, not by fighting with her but by putting this behind her and not letting it define who she was to become. Anger, she was finding, could actually be a good thing.
Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-One
Jack Johnson was talking to Ray Donovan alone. Ray was not too bothered; he knew he had right on his side and, in fairness, Reggie and Barton had stopped him before he had done too much damage to Lenny Scott. He had done what he had set out to do: made sure that Big Lenny Scott never touched another woman as long as he lived. That seemed just and fair to him, though what had happened to his Sharon would not be so easily remedied. Now he looked calmly at Jack, a half-smile on his face. He had had his retribution; he felt better for that anyway.
‘What can I do for you, Jack?’ He spoke quietly and respectfully. He had no quarrel with Jack Johnson and he had a feeling that Jack didn’t have any quarrel with him.
‘Feeling better?’
Ray shrugged nonchalantly. ‘A little, if I’m honest. But it still doesn’t change anything for Sharon. What he did was brutal and frightening and soul-destroying.’
Jack nodded in agreement and sympathy. ‘True. But at least she hasn’t got to contend with him ever again. That in itself has to be a blessing. One thing, though. I’ve realised who you are, or rather who you were.’
Ray was immediately alert and he sat up straighter in the chair as he said, ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
Jack smiled then. ‘Oh, your secret’s safe with me, son. I won’t say a dicky bird. Do you still keep in touch with the Wheelans? I know them well. Todd and Dingo were old muckers of mine many years ago when we were all starting out.’
Still Ray didn’t say a word.
‘Listen, if I really want to, I can find out another way, Ray, but I would rather hear it from you.’
There was a hint of a threat, but only a hint, and Ray relaxed somewhat.
‘They are fine. Obviously I don’t see that much of them now they are banged up. I hear the odd word, of course.’
He was challenging the man and Jack knew it and admired him for it.
‘Why are you so interested?’
Jack shrugged gently. ‘Curiosity. No more and no less. I knew that their torturer was an unknown – that he did the job well and that when it all went tits up they kept their traps shut about who you were. Wise men. Everyone is vulnerable in prison. Not the safest place to make enemies.’
Ray held his large hands up in a gesture of supplication. ‘So, now you know. What happens next?’
Jack Johnson smiled quietly. ‘Nothing. Why pick at a scab? I just wanted to know for my own gratification. It was the blowtorch that alerted me. I heard that was your forte. That and pliers.’
Ray laughed delightedly. ‘Those were the days, all right. No one knew who I was, see? So no one saw me coming.’ He coughed quietly before continuing, ‘I stalked my prey and I caught them. I tortured them and I left them to be found by relevant parties. I was good at my job and the fact that no one knew who I was worked in my favour when it all fell out of bed. I came South and the rest is history.’
Jack nodded. ‘You were lucky, Ray. The Wheelans kept schtum.’
Ray shrugged once more. ‘It was in their interests to keep quiet about me. I did what they asked and I know where the bodies are buried. They would never have seen the light of day again if I had turned.’
‘Which, of course, you never would!’
Ray laughed again as he said nonchalantly, ‘But the Wheelans didn’t know that, did they?’
‘Have you told anyone? Reggie or Barton?’
Ray shook his head. ‘And I am not going to. That was another life.’
Jack understood his logic and applauded it. ‘Sharon can never find out. You do realise that, don’t you?’
They held eye contact for a few seconds before Ray said casually, ‘She won’t. I can assure you of that.’
Jack smiled again. ‘Ever thought of taking on some private work? All under the table – no one would know who you are. I know a lot of people who would pay well for your kind of expertise.’
Ray was smiling again and Jack knew he had him. Men like Ray Donovan only came along every second or third generation and, when they did, they were worth their weight in gold.
‘I will broker for you and never mention your name.’
‘I’m game if you are, Jack. I miss my old occupation, if I am honest. A good stress-reliever, much better than the shite they spout on Good Morning!’
Jack laughed with him, pleased that he had struck the deal.
‘Fancy a quick snifter?’
Ray grinned, and it was as if the sun had come out, as h
e said happily, ‘Why not? Been a great day in many ways. It was good to get back into the swing of things. I didn’t realise how much I’d missed it.’
Jack Johnson smiled but a small shiver ran up his spine. Now he knew exactly who he was dealing with, he would use extreme caution for the foreseeable future. This was not a man to cross. Even he knew that.
Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Two
Sharon was bathed and in a robe when Ray came into the house. She ran to him and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. She smelled of coconut shampoo and Nivea Creme. It was a smell he had begun to love. She looked up into his eyes and he smiled at her reassuringly.
‘It’s done. We won’t ever talk of it, OK? Not unless you want to . . .’
She shook her head quickly. ‘No, I don’t want to talk about it ever again.’
He hugged her tightly once more, and then she said, in a small voice, ‘Is he dead?’
Ray laughed then, and kissed the top of her head. ‘No, lass. He’s not dead.’
She kissed him lightly on his full-lipped mouth, and he kissed her back. Then the two boys came running down the stairs in their pyjamas and he held out his arms to them so they could join in with the hug. They were thrilled to see him and he was pleased to see them too. They were good kids, but they needed a stern hand and he could provide that for them.
‘Who fancies a game of Monopoly?’
His voice was loud and jocular and the two boys were immediately full of excitement.
‘I’ll make us all hot chocolate, shall I?’