Wishing and Hoping

by Mia Dolan

  He sighed. ‘Well. At least you know your boys have acquired a name for themselves. I’ll leave it up to you then.’

  ‘Yeah. You do that.’

  Shoulders back and fists clenched, Tony escorted the policemen to the door, holding his stomach in as though he was all tight muscle when in fact he was rapidly running to flab. One punch would have knocked the stuffing out of him.

  Once they’d left, Tony grabbed his coat from the hook behind the door where everybody hung their coats. Luckily his was top of the pile. He vaguely wondered when Babs was going to have a clear out. She just tossed stuff onto piles and never put things away properly.

  It was beginning to rain, a fine spray windblown in from the sea. Turning up his coat collar he headed to where he’d had a ‘robbers’ lair’ when he was a boy. It had been a good spot away from prying eyes and ideal for boys to hide in. It had always boasted a sign saying NO GIRLS. Later on, as the hormones had taken over, the sign had remained but the boys took their girlfriends there, safe in the knowledge that they wouldn’t be disturbed.

  He smiled when he came to the ramshackle construction half hidden behind old wartime concrete built to protect the island against an enemy who never got there. He suspected the corrugated-iron roof might be the very same that he and his pals had used years before.

  ‘Oi!’ he bellowed at the same time as hammering on the roof.

  Mutterings and the sound of grunted orders came from inside before a freckled face appeared. ‘Clear off!’

  Tony grabbed the boy’s hair before he had a chance to disappear. ‘Arnold! Archie! Come out ’ere before I come in there and drag you out.’

  Silence. Tony grinned. He could imagine the surprise on his boys’ faces; the old man was waiting outside. They could be in for a clip around the ear if they didn’t get their story straight.

  The moment he saw their expressions, he knew he was right.

  Shoving his hands in his pockets, he sauntered a little way from their hideout looking thoughtful and wearing a troubled frown.

  ‘The coppers are looking for you two.’

  ‘We ain’t done nothing,’ Archie blurted.

  ‘Nothing much,’ Arnold added more hesitantly.

  Tony was tempted to smile, but he had a part to play. He was their dad after all and they were supposed to respect him – right?

  ‘I don’t want them coming round to see me again. Got it?’

  The two boys nodded.

  ‘You better had. What the other kids do is up to them. Here,’ he said, after rummaging in his pocket. He gave them half a crown each. ‘Don’t spend it all at once.’

  He went off whistling. By the time he was out of sight, Archie and Arnold were back inside their ‘den’, telling the others that their dad was a real hard case and had done time in prison.

  ‘I wouldn’t want to do time,’ said the freckle-faced lad whose name was Sammy.

  ‘That’s ’cos you’re a wimp,’ said Archie, giving his shoulder a shove. ‘Right. Now let’s see what you got there.’

  The boy handed over a bicycle lamp and a handful zof penny chews he’d snitched from another kid under threat of being pummelled into pulp.

  Tony Brooks sauntered off along the seafront sniffing the air and looking at the view. He was feeling self-satisfied. His sons were sorted. No more police. It didn’t really occur to him that he hadn’t warned them to behave themselves, merely to avoid getting tangled up with the law.

  The fact was that he was feeling restless. Sheerness just didn’t have the buzz of London. It didn’t have the women either. The fact of the matter was that he didn’t fancy his wife any longer. Regardless of the threat from Rafferty, he had to get back there before he died of boredom. The only reason he would ever come back to Sheppey was to see his old mum.

  His mood plummeted at the thought of her. He’d gone to the hospital with her. The doctor had taken him to one side and put it on the line.

  ‘We can’t do anything for her blindness, of course, and I have to warn you right now that we may have to take more than her toe off. It may be the whole of her foot. It all depends.’

  People regarded Tony Brooks as a tough guy. When the doctor told him that he’d felt sick and totally helpless. He’d wanted to cry, him, the hard man of Sheerness and London.

  ‘You can’t!’

  His voice had sounded faint and faraway. Obviously the doctor didn’t think so. He’d stepped back, looking quite alarmed. It came to him that he was shouting but hadn’t realised.

  The doctor regained his composure. ‘It’s a fine line between her living and dying. She’s signed to give her consent for whatever has to be done.’

  Tony couldn’t get it out of his mind. Perhaps that was why he wasn’t feeling so scared of Paddy and not purely because he was thinking of his mother. The truth was that he couldn’t face seeing her suffering and the possibility that she might end up a cripple, walking with crutches or in a wheelchair.

  When it came to sickness, Tony Brooks was an out and out coward and he knew it.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  THE NIGHTCLUB WAS buzzing, the neon Blue Genie lights bathing the customers in a chill blue glow.

  Marcie looked for Sally who that week had been performing on stage with two pink feather fans and a trio of discreetly placed silver stars. Tonight was to have been her night off, her place taken by Slinky Salome and her twenty-foot python. All the same she had promised to call in, though when Marcie thought about it she realised Sally had only said ‘might’ which was really unusual. They always met up on her nights off. Sally gave sterling support to a woman who was missing her husband.

  Still, Marcie told herself, there was no law that said Sally had to be there.

  People had congratulated her on doing a good job of running the Blue Genie. Marcie had managed to charm most of the clientele and men’s eyes lit up at the sight of her. Should any of them be accompanied by their wives or mistresses, she was charmingly polite. If they were alone the charm was laid on that much thicker.

  The club had to be a success. She owed it to Michael. But she was charming her way around gangsters, bankers and other rich and powerful men for a very good reason.

  People were aware of the affairs of Paddy Rafferty. Rumour had it that although he was a past master at the exploitation of Irish labour on the building sites, he fancied his chances of taking a cut of the development action. He wanted to be bigger than he was.

  The political animals who frequented the Blue Genie were the obvious starting point. What was Rafferty up to? How did he operate? Who did he employ to do his dirty work?

  She wasn’t rightly sure of finding out anything useful, but she had to try. Her husband and her family were depending on her and, even though it meant leaving the children with Allegra, she had to try. Allegra would look after them. She was one hundred per cent sure of that.

  She was at the bar sipping at a cocktail. A local politician by the name of Randolph Cramer was playing her court. She allowed him to do so, safe in the knowledge that the bouncers were close at hand and the politician’s mistress was sitting at a table, a fixed smile on her face and a furious look in her eyes.

  There were reasons for Marcie allowing Randolph to think he was in with a chance. He was rumoured to be a close colleague of Paddy Rafferty and Marcie was sure that Paddy Rafferty had had something to do with Michael being arrested. It was also rumoured that Randolph had once been in a close relationship with Linda Bell.

  His eyes roved over her body. Far from being handsome, Randolph had pale eyes, pale hair and a shiny pate. But of course he had wealth and power in spades, sure-fire compensation for his less than playboy looks.

  Her instinctive reaction was to move away from him, but she forced herself to stay put and even to smile at him as though his attentions were appreciated.

  She saw him glance over his shoulder. His girlfriend was no longer sitting at the table. It was a safe bet to assume that she’d gone off to powder her nose. She gu
essed what he’d say next.

  His fingers stroked her arm. Mr Local Politician turned into Mr Seductive.

  ‘How about you and me getting together sometime?’

  Well, she could play the seductive game too, though there was more purpose to her being seductive.

  Her smile was wide and her eyes flashed with hidden promise. ‘You know I’m married?’

  He nodded. ‘Of course I do.’

  She detected his attempt to adopt an upper-class accent, but his roots somewhere down Rotherhithe way shone through.

  ‘What about Agnes?’

  He shrugged and tipped his brandy glass, swallowing the measure in one. ‘She means nothing to me.’ He signalled to the barman for another.

  ‘And your wife?’

  She’d done her homework well. Even though Randolph had never brought his wife to the club, she knew he had one. It had purely been a case of phoning his office and pretending to be his wife.

  The telephonist had not hesitated. ‘Christine? Darling. What do you want?’

  She’d put the phone down without saying a word. Thank goodness there was no way for him to check who had called – except for asking his wife that is.

  ‘My wife understands me,’ he replied, his colder tone a direct result of his surprise that she knew he had a wife.

  He slid his left hand into his pocket – as though not flashing his wedding ring would alter his station or improve his chances. The arrogance of the man!

  ‘She would have to. I’ve seen you with other women besides Agnes.’

  He drank more brandy. ‘I like women. They never last, of course. One-night stands for the most part.’

  Marcie smiled. Shaking her head, she wagged a finger at him. ‘I think you’re fibbing, Randolph. A little bird tells me that you have had more long-term relationships. Linda Bell for one.’

  She caught him in the middle of another slug of brandy and thought he was going to choke.

  ‘I had nothing to do with it, Marcie. I don’t know anything about it.’

  She caught the sudden change of mood, the nervous tic beneath his right eye, the sudden flaccidity of his jowls. She guessed he’d been holding his stomach muscles in. Like the rest of him they relaxed too and sent a button popping from his waistband.

  Marcie fingered the rim of her glass. ‘She was a good-time girl. Right?’

  ‘You could say that. I wasn’t the only one taking her out. Rafferty did for a start. In fact he even set her up in a flat for a while.’

  Marcie nodded. What he was telling her was only what she’d expected. Rafferty had a lot to do with it, but without any evidence . . . She needed to know who had planted the gun.

  It was a terrible rush, but the following day Marcie set off to see her grandmother. She would be coming out of hospital shortly and Babs had suggested she move in with her, which came as something of a surprise. The two women had tolerated each other for years and were better off apart.

  Allegra had offered to go with Marcie and help with the children and her assistance was much appreciated. Joanna wanted to run around all over the place and Aran didn’t care much for travelling. He was a baby who liked routine. He also loved Allegra and seemed resentful that his mother was in charge and carrying him in her arms.

  Marcie drove them down in her beloved Mini, the children asleep in the back and Allegra sitting serenely at the front. The weather was turning cold. They passed one particular house that had put up their Christmas decorations weeks ahead of everyone else. Still, thought Marcie, everyone has to have something to look forward to. In her case it was a fragile hope that Michael would be released in time for Christmas, but it didn’t look likely.

  First stop was to drop the children and Allegra off at Endeavour Terrace. Garth was in the kitchen, pouring tea into three cups and a milkier version into a plastic tumbler for Joanna.

  Marcie held her breath. Garth had even provided a saucepan of hot water in order to warm Aran’s bottle.

  ‘Did you hear us pull up?’ she asked him.

  ‘No. I just knew what time you’d get here,’ he replied.

  Of course he did. She should have known.

  After sorting a few things out like the sleeping arrangements and whether there were clean sheets on the beds, Marcie left for the hospital.

  At least the interior of the hospital didn’t smell as bad as the prison had on the day before when she’d visited Michael. To her great relief he had looked a lot better than on her last visit and confided in her that he wasn’t ‘falling down stairs or walking into doors’ any longer.

  ‘You must have a guardian angel,’ she’d said to him.

  He’d smiled. ‘I must do.’

  ‘She’s still asleep,’ said the doctor.

  Her grandmother’s bed was at the very end of the ward. The curtains were pulled halfway and there was a metal cage beneath the bedding, keeping it away from her injury.

  Marcie felt her eyes filling with tears. Rosa Brooks looked so tiny and frail in the hospital bed. The frame beneath the bedcovers looked like some kind of monster, eating her from the bottom up. She supposed in a way her grandmother was being eaten.

  Swiping a tear from the corner of her eye, she asked the doctor when she was likely to be up on her feet again and had the toe been removed successfully.

  ‘I’m afraid there were complications. We had to remove half her leg.’

  To Marcie it was like being hit by a blast of cold air. She couldn’t breathe. Surely she’d misheard.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  The doctor’s voice pulled her back from the shock she was feeling. She nodded weakly.

  ‘Will she live?’

  ‘We’re not sure. Her age goes against her, of course, but she is strong-minded. We find having a strong will aids recovery no end.’

  ‘How will she . . .?’

  Marcie almost choked the words out. She wanted to say how will she get around, but somehow she already knew what he would say.

  ‘We’re pretty sure she’ll need a wheelchair. Does your grandmother live in a bungalow?’

  She shook her head. ‘An old cottage.’

  Visualising the rooms she’d known for most of her life, Marcie was painfully aware that a wheelchair and number ten Endeavour Terrace did not mix. The cottage had steps at the front door and stairs up to the first floor. Besides that, the hallway was narrow and the bathroom was out the back. Her mind was already darting around, trying to organise what had to be done. Her grandmother would have to move in with her and the children. There was no other alternative.

  On her return to Endeavour Terrace, she discussed her plans with Allegra, who made her sit down, drink tea and eat a ham sandwich.

  ‘You are getting so thin,’ Allegra pointed out.

  Marcie ran her hands through her hair. She was half inclined not to leave the Isle of Sheppey. Life had been so much simpler here, though poorer, of course: no nice clothes, house or nippy little car. She couldn’t help snapping.

  ‘And you’re becoming so bloody sanctimonious!’

  Allegra’s classic countenance froze for barely a second, but enough to make Marcie feel guilty.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Marcie.

  ‘No need to be,’ said Allegra in that calm, collected way of hers. ‘I suppose I must seem a bit that way of late. I know very well that I’m not at all the person I once was when I was with Victor. I’ve come to the conclusion that my life had lost its way when I was with him.’

  Marcie didn’t know why, but she felt slightly embarrassed. It was as though she’d probed too deeply into Allegra’s personal life – though really what had she said? Only that she thought she had become sanctimonious and even then it was purely an outburst because she was worried about her grandmother.

  Allegra’s big brown eyes shone as she looked directly into Marcie’s face. ‘I don’t believe that I will be around for you much longer, Marcie.’

  Marcie was instantly filled with alarm, suddenly realising just h
ow much she depended on Allegra. ‘Where are you going? Back with your parents? Abroad maybe?’

  Allegra shook her head. ‘Not back with my parents, though I may very well end up being sent abroad.’

  Sent? What was she talking about? Marcie stared, waiting to hear more.

  ‘I’ve decided to join a religious order.’

  Marcie still said nothing. The ball was very much in Allegra’s court.

  ‘I’ve decided to become a nun.’

  Marcie sat there, not sure whether to congratulate or commiserate. She didn’t say anything until she got her thoughts into order.

  ‘Are you absolutely sure about this?’

  Even after she’d said it, Marcie knew what the answer would be. Wrapped up in her own world with her own problems, she’d noticed the change in Allegra but hadn’t enquired why it was so. She immediately felt quite selfish and also very, very surprised.

  Lowering her eyes, Allegra nodded slowly. ‘I’ve thought about it long and carefully. I don’t pretend that the church is perfect – or rather the people serving it are not perfect; they’re only human after all.’ Her eyes flashed as she raised her eyelids. ‘I’ve wrestled with my conscience and my sins and have decided that it’s the perfect life for me. I was born into a wealthy family and Victor was wealthy too. Perhaps I had an overdose of wealth and luxurious living and now I yearn for something simpler.’

  ‘But Victor was not the father of your child. You said it was a priest.’

  Allegra nodded. ‘I know you’re finding it hard to understand, but the church is not to blame for the sins of one man. I know it’s where I want to be.’

  Marcie sat stunned though strangely enough she understood. ‘I’ll miss you. So will Joanna.’

  Allegra smiled. The little girl, unwilling to be ignored, had climbed onto her mother’s lap and was eating one of her sandwiches.

  ‘I’ll miss all of you – even Sally. By the way, how is she?’

  The conversation had turned a corner. Marcie guessed Allegra was unwilling to discuss her decision further. When and where she decided to carry out her plan would be kept under wraps until she was ready. Marcie’s mind turned to Sally.