Dirty Game

by Jessie Keane

  Annie’s jaw dropped. For a moment she couldn’t speak at all, she was too shocked.

  ‘What?’ she said at last.

  Max grasped her arms and stared intently into her eyes from inches away.

  ‘I already said it yesterday, Annie Bailey. Weren’t you listening? I want you. You’re mine.’

  Annie pulled herself free of him. ‘I’m not anybody’s,’ she said hotly.

  ‘Wrong. You’re mine,’ said Max.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’d let anyone walk in off the street and fuck you?’ he demanded.

  ‘No! You know I wouldn’t do that.’

  ‘Only me.’

  Annie swallowed. It was true. She knew it, he knew it. But this! She couldn’t take it in. It was too much. And what about all her fine intentions to cut this dead?

  ‘You want me to be your mistress,’ she said numbly.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, putting out an arm and indicating the apartment’s luscious interior. ‘I want you right here, with me.’

  ‘You want me on tap, whenever you feel the urge.’

  ‘That’s right. My mistress will want for nothing, Annie. Nothing at all.’

  ‘You’ve got a fucking nerve,’ she stammered. And now was the perfect time to tell him to piss off, she knew it. Again the tormenting sight of Ruthie’s face rose in her mind.

  ‘You already knew that. And you like it.’

  ‘No I fucking don’t.’ The cheek of him, storming back into her life and now trying to run it.

  ‘Come and see the bedroom.’

  ‘I saw it yesterday.’

  ‘Let me put that another way,’ said Max, bending and lifting her up into his arms. Annie shrieked in surprise. ‘Come and see the cunting bedroom, and shut your yap, okay?’

  ‘Bastard,’ said Annie.

  ‘Bitch,’ said Max, and walked through and dumped her on the bed, following her down on to it and stopping all further objections with his mouth on hers.

  Annie looked up and there, above the bed, was Kieron’s nude of her.

  ‘Good God,’ she said in shock.

  ‘Like it?’ asked Max, his eyes following hers.

  ‘It’s … okay.’ Max kissed her again. ‘I still hate you for this,’ muttered Annie when he let her up for air.

  But not as much as I hate myself.

  ‘Hate away,’ said Max, and started stripping off her clothes.

  * * *

  ‘I married the wrong sister,’ said Max later as they lay naked and entwined in each other’s arms.

  Annie was almost asleep, she felt so relaxed. The sun was going down and the light in the apartment was dim. Annie thought she must have died and gone to heaven. How long had she dreamed of being like this with Max? Too long. But what he’d just said jolted her back to reality. He was her sister’s husband. She might fool herself that she was happy about this, but she knew it was still a mess of her own making.

  ‘Don’t say that,’ pleaded Annie, turning over, turning away from the truth.

  Max cuddled into her back, lying with her so that they were like spoons in a drawer. It was so nice. So right.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, and kissed her neck. ‘It’s how I feel. It was you I wanted, but you were headstrong and I thought I didn’t want that in a wife. Ruthie’s more docile, softer. You’re a powerful woman, Annie. Like my dear old mum, come to think of it. I made the choice, and I chose wrong.’

  Annie screwed her eyes shut, disappearing into the dream again – her and Max, here together. Yet there was Ruthie, too, looking sad, betrayed, accusing.

  She snapped her eyes open. ‘You could change it. Get divorced.’

  ‘No I can’t.’

  His tone was so sharp that Annie turned her head to stare at him in surprise. ‘Why?’

  ‘Why?’ He drew away from her. ‘I would have thought that was pretty fucking obvious. I can’t be seen to screw up. Filing for divorce would be seen in my business as a weakness, a failure to keep my house in order.’

  Annie’s face clouded. ‘So this way you get the best of both worlds,’ she said. ‘You get the respectability of having a wife, and all your mates think you’re a great big man because you’ve got a mistress set up in a fancy apartment.’

  ‘It’s the way it works,’ said Max.

  ‘What if I say no?’

  ‘You’ve already said yes. Four times.’

  Annie thumped his chest and coloured up. He knew exactly how to please her during sex, they both knew that. ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘How the fuck can you blush when you’ve been running a cathouse?’ Max was smoothing his hands down over her back, making her shiver. But there was something she had to say and she was going to say it.

  ‘That isn’t going to change,’ said Annie.

  It was Max’s turn to look surprised. ‘You’re having a laugh.’

  ‘No, I’m not. Celia wanted me to sort it and I’m going to carry on doing that.’

  Celia. She hadn’t thought about her in a while, with her coiffed hair and her bright brown eyes and her ridiculous ivory ciggie holder, giving herself funny little airs and graces. She loved Celia for her kindness and her warmth. Missed her too. Annie frowned.

  ‘Max,’ she said.

  ‘Mm?’ He was looking thunderous at what she’d just said.

  ‘Did you hurt Celia?’

  Max stiffened. ‘Why do you ask that?’

  ‘Because she went so suddenly,’ said Annie. She took a breath. ‘Soon after Eddie … you know. She was frightened because it happened in her house and you knew about it.’

  ‘I didn’t hurt her,’ said Max.

  Annie breathed again. ‘Good.’

  ‘And I don’t want you living there any more.’

  Annie stared at him. ‘We can’t all get what we want, Max,’ she said.

  Max drew closer to her. They were staring eye to eye.

  ‘Some of us can,’ said Max. ‘Some of us always do.’

  ‘Not this time.’

  ‘I don’t want you doing it. End of.’

  ‘I’m going to do it. End of.’

  ‘No you’re fucking not.’

  ‘Yes I am.’

  ‘For your own safety.’

  ‘Not to save you embarrassment among your mates?’ Annie arched a brow.

  ‘All right, both. It can’t go on, Annie. See sense.’

  Annie gave it some thought. ‘Max, it’s something I have to do,’ she said at last.

  ‘No,’ said Max. ‘It isn’t. Put a manager in.’

  Annie gave it some more thought. A manager – now why hadn’t she thought of that? She reviewed her troops. Ellie was in the Delaneys’ pocket. A nice enough girl, but an arse-licker, as Celia had called her more than once in the course of conversation. Too eager to please and not to be trusted too far. Aretha was too bent in the head to be relied upon. Which left Dolly and Darren. Dolly! What a case. Always kicking against Annie’s authority. She got on Annie’s bloody nerves, and that was a fact. Annie knew Darren would do a good job; she often left him in charge now when she had to nip out.

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ said Annie.

  ‘Make sure you do.’

  Annie looked around at the bedroom, suddenly feeling as happy as a child at Christmas. ‘Christ, how do they get the dust down off these ceilings? They’re a mile high.’

  ‘Not your problem,’ said Max. ‘I’ve arranged for a cleaner.’

  ‘You’ve arranged everything,’ said Annie, linking her arms around his neck and kissing him. ‘It’s perfect.’

  ‘Not mad any more?’ asked Max, kissing her right back.

  ‘I’ll think about that too,’ she said. But Ruthie was still there in her brain, looking sad, looking betrayed.

  32

  After the Friday lunchtime party Annie sent Chris out for a fag break and phoned Redmond Delaney. It was something she’d been trying to avoid, but now she had to do it. She was about to announce her changes to her workers, and it was on
ly polite to break the news to him first.

  ‘Miss Bailey. Always a pleasure,’ he said smoothly. ‘How can I help?’

  ‘I’ve changed my plans,’ said Annie.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I’m moving out of here and putting a manager in charge.’

  Redmond was silent. Then he said: ‘Who?’

  Annie told him.

  ‘You’re sure that’s wise?’

  ‘Positive.’

  ‘And you will be moving where?’

  This was the bit Annie had dreaded.

  ‘The apartment I viewed last week, I’m moving in there.’

  ‘Are you planning to oversee the business there and have the Limehouse concern managed for you?’

  ‘No,’ said Annie, bracing herself. ‘I’m going to live there, not conduct business.’

  ‘That’s an expensive undertaking.’

  God, this was harder than she’d thought.

  ‘I’ll have help.’

  ‘Whose?’

  Fuck it, she thought. ‘That’s my private business,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Redmond. ‘As you wish.’

  ‘Sorry if this puts you out,’ said Annie.

  ‘It doesn’t. Was there anything else, Miss Bailey?’

  ‘No.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Keep in touch,’ he said, and rang off.

  Annie put the phone down feeling uneasy. Of course the Delaneys would soon find out what was going on, but her relationship – if you could call it that, she thought – with Max was not negotiable or for the public domain. If Ruthie should ever get to hear about it, it wouldn’t be because Annie had blabbed it about the town. She knew she had just made her position even more unstable, but it couldn’t be helped.

  Annie gave everyone time to get cleaned and cleared up, paid off the extra girls and bade them goodbye, then summoned the troops into the kitchen for tea and biscuits and a chat. She told them that she was moving out but would remain in control. She explained that the apartment she and Ellie had been to view was where she would be living, and she would not be running it as a parlour after all.

  ‘How can you be in control if you’re not even fucking-well here?’ asked Dolly.

  ‘I’ll put in a manager,’ said Annie.

  ‘Over my bloody dead body,’ said Dolly.

  ‘We don’t want some stranger comin’ in here an’ givin’ it large to us,’ warned Aretha. ‘An’ come on girl. How you goin’ afford a place like that? Ellie told us the details. It out of your league.’

  ‘My business is my business,’ said Annie bluntly.

  ‘Not when it affects us,’ said Dolly. ‘Aretha’s right. We don’t want some creep ordering us around.’

  ‘You won’t have some creep ordering you around. What do you think, Darren?’

  Darren shrugged, but he looked unhappy. ‘You’re the boss,’ he said.

  ‘Ellie? You’re not saying much.’

  ‘You seem to have made your mind up,’ said Ellie, weakening and reaching for the custard creams.

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Well I for one am not happy,’ scowled Dolly.

  ‘Same here,’ said Aretha.

  Annie drank her tea and let them stew for a minute or two. Then she said: ‘I’m not going to bring in a manager. I am going to create a manager.’

  ‘Create?’ Aretha laughed. ‘What, you goin’ make like that record, take a hundred pounds of clay and make a man, like Craig Douglas sang about? Dream on, honey.’

  ‘I’m going to create a manager from within,’ said Annie. God, they were dense. She was having to spell it out word for word.

  ‘You mean one of us?’ asked Darren.

  ‘At last,’ said Annie sarcastically.

  They all exchanged looks. Annie could see she’d grabbed their attention now.

  ‘I’m not taking orders off that great lummox Chris,’ said Dolly.

  ‘Nor me,’ said Aretha.

  ‘Aretha,’ said Annie. ‘Dolly. Take your tea into the front room, will you? I want a quiet word with Ellie and Darren.’

  ‘I’m not joking,’ warned Dolly, shoving her chair back and storming off to the front room with a scowling Aretha.

  ‘Ellie,’ said Annie, when the front room door slammed shut. ‘You’re a good worker. You have a lovely way with our older gentlemen. I value your work very highly.’

  Ellie looked pleased and preened herself, throwing Darren a triumphant look.

  ‘I hope you can carry on working for me. Go and try to calm Dolly down, will you? Send Aretha back in.’

  Ellie looked bewildered but obediently left the room. Darren looked curiously at Annie, but her face was blank. Aretha strode back into the kitchen, pulled up a chair and sat huffily down.

  ‘Okay, what?’ she demanded.

  ‘You’re a great worker, Aretha. I really want you to stay on here and be happy with the arrangements,’ said Annie.

  Aretha grunted. ‘Well, that depends on what you goin’ to do,’ she said.

  ‘Nothing you’d be unhappy with. Go back into the front room and have a chat with Ellie, will you? I really want to keep you both if I can. Send Dolly through.’

  Darren poured himself and Annie another cup of tea, then sat and gnawed a hangnail. ‘This is doing my nerves in,’ he told her.

  ‘Just keep calm,’ said Annie.

  ‘I’m afraid you’re going to say something horrible.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like, “Darren, Chris is going to be your new boss.” Or “Darren, I want you to take over here.”’

  ‘Wouldn’t you like that?’

  ‘God, I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it.’

  Dolly came in slamming the door into the hall shut behind her. Dolly was a terrific door-slammer, but it cut no ice with Annie.

  ‘I’m not happy with any of this,’ Dolly fumed.

  Annie nodded, she knew all about Dolly’s resistance to change of any sort. When you’d been humped around like an unwanted package all your natural and pushed about and abused by your own father, it would make you that way. It didn’t take a shrink to see that.

  ‘I’ve been talking to Darren about him being in charge,’ said Annie.

  ‘I told you, I’m not taking orders from anyone. Particularly not an arse bandit.’

  ‘Charming,’ said Darren.

  ‘Well that’s what you are,’ said Dolly. ‘You shove shit uphill, isn’t that right? It’s all tears and queers in your room on a Saturday night.’

  ‘Enough,’ said Annie sharply. Dolly getting panicky she could understand, but there was no call to take it out on Darren.

  ‘Well,’ pouted Dolly.

  ‘Well nothing. Be nice.’

  ‘It’s just that …’

  ‘I know how you like things steady,’ said Annie. ‘I know how much you appreciate what Celia did for you, taking you in here off the streets like she did, giving you a settled home. I know how much you value this place. That’s why I want you to manage it.’

  Darren’s jaw dropped. So did Dolly’s.

  Annie sat there and smiled at them both.

  ‘Good idea?’ she said, and grabbed a biscuit. ‘Darren, you’ll be number two, you’ll stand in for Dolly whenever she’s not here and back her up when she is, would you like that?’

  Darren’s natural position was number two. Annie knew it, and so did he. Darren nodded, relieved.

  ‘Dolly, you’ll be managing. That means no more entertaining clients and it means looking like a lady and not kicking off and swearing like a navvie at the first sign of trouble. Could you do that?’

  To Annie’s surprise, Dolly’s eyes suddenly filled with tears.

  ‘No more shagging?’ she said faintly.

  ‘Not unless you really want to.’

  ‘Christ, no.’ Dolly’s laugh was shaky. ‘Fuck it, I don’t understand this.’

  ‘You’re tough, Dolly. I like that. Think you can take charge?’


  Dolly wiped away a tear, but she was grinning. ‘You just fucking watch me,’ she said.

  ‘Call the others in, Darren,’ said Annie. ‘And bring a bottle of champagne. This calls for a celebration.’

  33

  Ruthie Carter phoned her mother at eleven a.m. every day. Not that she really wanted to. Her mother disgusted her and yet Ruthie still loved her. The daily phone call had become a habit and now it was a job for life. If Ruthie didn’t phone, Connie became waspish and cruel, accusing her of not caring, of not loving her mother, of being a bad daughter. None of which could truthfully be said of Ruthie, but when the drink was on her – and when wasn’t it? – Connie could come out with all sorts.

  Ruthie had started calling her every day because she was worried about her. Feeling worried was a prominent feature in Ruthie’s life. She worried about her failing marriage. She worried about how much she drank these days, she worried about Connie, who ought to be with her instead of living alone in London. Connie didn’t work any more. She couldn’t, truth be told. Most days she was too rat-arsed to crawl out of bed, let alone do a day’s labour.

  When Ruthie sat and thought about it she could trace this gnawing, constant anxiety back to when Dad left. It had been like the lunatics taking charge of the nuthouse on that day. Connie couldn’t run a piss-up in a brewery, and that was a fact. Running a household alone had turned out to be beyond her. When Dad went, everything started to crumble away; it was still crumbling. And now Connie wasn’t answering her phone and Ruthie felt her anxiety spiralling out of control.

  She couldn’t phone Max. He must never be bothered with domestic stuff, and her mother came in that category. She knew very well what Max thought of Connie. There’d be merry hell to pay if she troubled him because Connie was drunk again. Instead, she phoned her cousin Kath who was now married to Jimmy Bond, one of Max’s boys. Kath’s mother, Maureen, lived just three doors along from Connie.

  ‘Mum’s not answering her phone, Kath love. Could you get your mum to pop round and check on her?’

  ‘Of course I could,’ said Kath. ‘You’re all right, are you, Ruthie?’