by Martina Cole
Joey woke up in the Old London. His face was sore, a few teeth were missing and his legs felt like they had been amputated without anaesthetic.
But he was glad of the pain; it told him he was at least in the land of the living.
A stiff-faced nurse was looking down at him and Joey nearly screamed with fright. She was even uglier than Hitchin, he reckoned. But the dark blue of her uniform told him he was in a place of safety and that made him feel better.
His biggest fear as he’d seen the metal bar descend on his forehead was that he would never see another Christmas.
Closing his eyes, Joey sighed to himself.
He was alive and so far not in prison, but instead of trumping June and getting her back into the fold he was lying in bed with a fierce headache and the knowledge he could still be looking at a fifteen- or twenty-year lump!
Life was unfair at times, it really was.
Opening his eyes again he saw Davey Davidson standing by the bed, his expression genial, carrying a basket of fruit.
Joey didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Instead he stared steadily at his employer and waited for Davey to let him know what he had decided was going to happen to Joey.
‘I bet your bonce is screaming, ain’t it, mate?’
Davey’s voice was low and sympathetic. Joey looked up at him and said dolefully: ‘Well, Davey, I have felt better, know what I mean?’
Mickey Bannerman was smiling.
He had eight children by his wife Layla, a big heavy-breasted girl with beautiful teeth, rich red hair and a nose that would easily fit on to four faces instead of one. Her father was a known East End criminal called Billy Tarmey. Mickey had married her to get his hands on the old man’s manor. He had easily slipped on the mantle of most feared man in London and on his father-in-law’s kudos had prospered in North and South London, leaving the East End to the bullyboys.
Now, however, he wanted the lot.
As he watched his wife with his children he felt glad he had married her. Layla was an excellent mother; the girls were learning dancing and the boys all played musical instruments. They spoke properly and had exemplary table manners.
Mickey also kept a one-time stripper called Monet whom he visited with urgency and feeling up to fifteen times a week. Layla knew about it and accepted it. Mickey Bannerman was known as the horniest man in London. His prowess was legendary and in his youth hostesses were known to leave as they saw him walk through the doors of their club. He tired them out and left them unable to work for days.
One old lag said once on hearing Bannerman was after him: ‘Fuck me, I hope he wants to give me a good hiding. I’d rather that than he shagged me to death.’
Hearing this, Mickey thought it was so funny he let the man off with just a punishment beating. Such was the mentality of Michael Bannerman.
Today he was happy, deliriously so. Sitting in his large lounge with his youngest daughter on his knee he smiled amiably at all the people in the room. In a few hours he would have in his possession all he needed to make him the King of the Hill. That was what he had been aiming for since he had married the horsey bird with the nice teeth, as he’d always referred to Layla before she became his wife.
When the doorbell rang he got up and welcomed in Maureen Carter and June McNamara.
He liked June. He always had. The few occasions he had seen her with Jimmy she had been all a woman should be. Quiet, compliant, and with her Bristols on show. A typical villain’s whore.
Unlike Maureen he felt she was going to be a pushover.
He settled them in his office and made them both a drink, indulged in a bit of small talk and introduced them to his kids. The von Trapps couldn’t have faulted him for courtesy.
Then, ushering his kids from the room, he sipped his own drink and smiled nastily at June.
‘You’ve given me a headache, you know. But I’ll overlook that fact in honour of the friendship I had with Jimmy.’
No one answered though the two women privately wondered how he could lay claim to friendship with a man he would have shot if Davidson had not got there first.
June stared down into her glass of port and tried to stifle the fear inside her.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Bannerman, but I was scared. I knew Jimmy was going on the trot and I tried to save meself. I’ve two daughters to bring up and a husband who’s about as much use as a spare prick at the Queen Mother’s birthday party.’
Mickey laughed as she knew he would. If you could make Mickey laugh you were half-way home.
‘Your old man’s a wanker, ain’t he? But thanks to you he’s now in the Old London with a head that’s more swollen than a virgin’s knob. But I digress. Have you got the relevant paperwork, and if so what’s your price, love? It’s Christmas and I’m in a good mood. How lucky can you get, eh, girl? Any other time of the year I’d have ripped your tits off and laughed while I did it. But I like Christmas, always puts me in a happy frame of mind. New Year on its way, new deals to be done, new people to stomp on at some point. A very enjoyable season, I always think.’
Maureen saw the colour drain from June’s face and stifled the urge to laugh. Mickey knew his audience and he played it well.
She coughed, taking the onus off June, and said gently, ‘I have told her she can keep the few grand she took as compensation for losing Jimmy but she has to give us the books. I have them now in my handbag so I think today’s just a formality really.’
Mickey looked at the only woman he could ever say he truly respected and liked. Maureen was a diamond in many respects. Look what she had done for him now. Got the books without its costing him a penny.
June thought she had got off lightly, and in fairness she had.
‘I’ve told her we’ve called off Hitchin since her husband is now in hospital. We’ll call it quits and forget about the grave error of judgement they both made.’
Mickey hadn’t a clue what Maureen was on about.
June was none the wiser either.
‘So what you saying then?’ she asked fearfully.
Maureen grinned.
‘The bottom line is, love, you keep Jimmy’s money and we keep the rest. Simple really.’
June smiled widely.
‘Thanks. You’ve both been more than generous.’
Mickey stood up happily. He had what he wanted, he could afford to be magnanimous.
‘Another drink, ladies? Then you’ll have to excuse me. I have my family visiting and can’t keep them all waiting too long for their tea. My Layla won’t serve them until I arrive. She knows a man’s place is at the head of the table.’
Maureen grinned.
‘Personally I think a man’s head should be on the table, but I suppose I see your point.’
June watched the other two make jokes at each other’s expense and wished they would shut up and let her leave. But she knew she had to sit it out until they let her go. That was how things were done in these circles and she wasn’t going to try and change that.
Ivy was impressed by Barry Dalston. He took her mind off her sick son for a while and she was grateful for that. As Susan made a pot of tea Ivy rabbited on.
‘What a lovely young man, and so handsome! How the fuck you managed to crib him I don’t know. Now if Debbie had come home with him, I wouldn’t have been surprised - but you! Well, all I can say is whatever he sees in you it’s invisible because no one else will ever see it, girl. You hang on to him.’
Susan ignored her.
She was just thankful that Barry had left so she could revel in the thought of his generous gift to her. The other stuff she placed in the back of her mind as she always did with anything troubling or unpleasant.
Ivy kept giving her the benefit of her opinion. Susan listened to her with half an ear until she heard something that made a red mist of fury descend on her.
‘Just like your father at that age. Same stance, same look, the same easy way with him . . .’
Susan made the old w
oman jump as she screamed at her across the kitchen, ‘Barry is nothing like my father! Don’t you dare say things like that, you old witch. Why don’t you go home? Why must you always be here, ruining everything? He’s not like my so-called dad. In fact, you yourself point out at every opportunity that Joey ain’t me real father and, believe me, that suits me right down to the ground.’
Ivy was stunned speechless, but not for long. Pulling herself from the chair, she raised her hand and slapped Susan across the mouth.
‘Don’t you talk to me like that, you little bastard. After all I’ve done for you, to talk to me like that!’
As her hand came up again Susan grabbed it and pushed the older woman none too gently across the room.
‘Oh, piss off, you old bitch. You ever say my Barry’s like him again and I’ll kill you, do you hear what I’m saying? He is nothing like Dad. He’s nice, lovely in fact. He isn’t like your son at all so stop trying to say he is.’
Ivy was now in such a state of shock she was having trouble breathing. Her heart was beating erratically as she looked at the young girl before her. Susan had never challenged anyone before, always taking whatever was dealt out to her.
Suddenly Ivy was frightened of her.
Susan, however, had not finished.
‘You come here day after day and make our lives hell. You cause endless trouble with my mum and expect us all just to take what you dish out. Well, I’ve had enough. You’re nothing but a vindictive, vicious-mouthed old bitch and I wish you and your son would both drop dead. You’re nothing to me. I call you Granny because I have to but I can’t wait until I’m old enough to change my name to Smith or Jones - anything other than bloody McNamara!’
June stood at the front door and could not believe what she was hearing. Susan was shouting. Susan, the quiet one, the good girl, the daughter she knew was the mainstay of this household. The cleaner, the cook, the gofer.
June suppressed a smile. If she was shocked, she’d love to see her mother-in-law’s face. She waited for a few seconds before making a noise as if she had just walked through the door, then stepped into the kitchen with a big smile on her face.
‘Everything all right?’
Ivy was white-faced with anger and terror.
‘She hit me! You wait until my Joey hears about this. Raised her hand to me she did, June, slapped me one and kicked me.’
It never occurred to the old woman to tell the truth. Susan, however, was too annoyed to care.
‘I’m telling you, Mum, I’ve taken all I can from her over the last few years. I’m sick of listening to her. Make her go home. Please, Mum, make her go or I might just do her a bloody damage, a real one this time.’
She stepped towards the older woman and June got between them. She was worried now. Her daughter was not normally a violent person and in many respects that was her trouble. Living in a household like this it paid to be more aggressive, as Debbie was. She had made herself heard from the day she was born but that had never been in poor Susan’s nature. Whatever had set her off today it must have been serious and her daughter was more than likely in the right.
June decided there and then that she would start as she meant to go on. This was a perfect opportunity to get rid of the old woman once and for all.
‘I think you had better get your coat on, Ivy, and get yourself home.’
Ivy looked at her as if she had never seen her before.
As she screwed up her face into a mask of temper, June said quietly, ‘This is no time for fighting, Ivy. Joey’s in hospital with terrible head injuries. I’ve managed to get him out of the Bill shop and to stop all the madness of the last few days. I’m in no mood for listening to you an’ all. As for Susan, she’s probably worried by what’s been going on, and knowing you, you wound her up. This is my house and if you ever want to enter it again I’d advise you to do as she says and piss off.’
‘My son would never refuse me . . .’
Susan shouted, ‘Well, your son ain’t here, is he? And my mum is. Until he comes back you can go and take a flying fuck!’
Even June was shocked now.
‘Susan, for Christ’s sake, love, calm down. What on earth is going on here?’
She was nearly crying with frustration and anger.
‘I mean it, Mum. Either she goes or I do. I have had her up to my back teeth. Half the trouble in the past has been over her. Winding him up when he’s drunk, giving him gossip and making everyone’s lives a misery. I hate her nearly as much as I hate him. So now you know, don’t you?’
She stormed from the kitchen, leaving June and Ivy alone together. Ivy knew in her heart when she was beaten. She also knew that the girl was right. It was this that hurt more than anything, the knowledge that a young girl could see through her so easily.
‘After all I did for that child . . .’
June shook her head sadly.
‘Go home, Ivy. For crying out loud, will you just for once piss off back to your own house? She’s right and you know it. You picked on her from the word go. Well, shall I tell you something? When Joey comes home you’d better change your tune, lady, because like Susan I’ve had enough of you.
‘One thing you have never allowed for is the fact that Joey can’t function without me. No matter what I do he always takes me back. Remember that, won’t you, because if I throw you out now he won’t do a thing to stop me. And if I choose to, I will.’
Ivy walked from the flat a few minutes later, a defeated old woman. Susan stayed in her room and June counted the money and planned what she was going to do with it.
All in all, she reasoned, not a bad day’s work.
Chapter Six
Joey was pleased to see June at his bedside. She was dressed in a nice red dress and her make up was not too obvious; her nails were a pale pink instead of scarlet and her perfume not too strong.
‘You look nice, June.’
She smiled gently.
‘Well, I wish I could say the same about you, mate, but I can’t.’
Joey grinned.
‘I had a look at me boatrace this morning so I can hardly argue about that, can I?’
June didn’t answer.
‘Thanks for getting me out of the shit, I know you didn’t have to.’
She sat on the bed and took his hand in hers.
‘Listen, Joey, I did that because I care about you, I really do. But I can’t live the way we did before. It’s too much like hard work. If we’re going to make a go of it then things have got to change. Jimmy knew how to treat me; he gave me a new outlook on life. Whatever he was, he gave me more than anyone ever did before. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
Joey nodded.
His mind was working overtime. He had got the full SP off Davey Davidson. He knew that Jimmy had just dumped June, he knew everything by now. Like the fact that she also had three grand stashed.
‘I know that, love, and I will change, I promise. Even aim me mother out of it, I know she was a trial over the years . . .’
June laughed.
‘You’ll never guess what? Our Susan had a right go at her.’
Joey was intrigued.
‘What, she had a pop at me mother?’
June nodded.
A shadow of the old vindictive Joey crossed his face for a few seconds, then he smiled. ‘Who would have thought that, eh?’
‘She got herself a bloke, and Ivy being Ivy had to go and insult her.’
‘What do you mean, she got herself a bloke? Sue’s too young for fucking blokes.’
Joey pulled himself up in bed, the action making him wince. His legs were sore and he was still delicate, or at least as delicate as Joey McNamara could ever be.
‘I’ll fucking lay her out, the whore!’
June was nonplussed.
‘’Ere, calm down, he’s a nice little fella. Who’s rattled your cage, Joey?’
He took a deep breath and sighed.
‘She’s too young, June, and she ain’t stre
etwise enough to land herself a bloke. I’m putting a block on it and you can tell her that from me. You can also tell her that I’ll be home soon and things will be back to normal. Tell her that, right?’
June was surprised by his reaction. Debbie had been talking about blokes since she was ten and he had just laughed, telling her to keep them on the run, make them sweat, make them spend money on her.
Now poor old Susan had got herself a bloke, a nice one and all - June would have given him the come on herself a few years ago - and Joey was acting the big wronged husband. There was something fishy going on.
‘You sound jealous, Joey, what’s the scam?’
He felt a burning urge to punch his wife but knew he had to bide his time. He wanted her back and couldn’t push his luck for a good while. She held all the cards at the moment. So he sighed once more and assumed the mask of concerned father.
‘Listen, June, Debbie is a girl’s girl, right? She knows the score. Whereas poor old Susan . . . well, be fair, she’s got a face like the back of a bus and Bristols that would encourage a fucking monk out of his celibacy.
‘You know what I’m saying. This little fella’s probably gone to her head and she’s vulnerable. I mean, when was she last complaining about being asked out all the time like Debs, eh? I’ll tell you when, shall I? Never. And I have seen a lot more of her over the last few years than you have. Her and me got quite close, as a matter of fact, and I know how ignorant she is of men and their ways. If she meets a wrong ’un now, before we know it she’ll be in the club and that will be it.
‘I have great hopes for that girl, she has a brain on her. She even reads, for fuck’s sake. How many people we know do that, eh? Real books and all, not just the usual old crap Debbie reads, true confessions and that. Our Susan reads real books, I’ve seen her.’
June was practically fainting with shock.
‘That must have been quite a bang on the head from Hitchin - I can’t believe what you’re saying. This chap is quite a catch for Susan and seems genuine enough. He bought her gold earrings for Christmas and comes round all the time.’