The Business

by Martina Cole

  As Mary heard the loud knocking on her front door she assumed that it was Imelda bringing the kids back because they were getting on her nerves. So Mary plastered a wide smile on her face and opened the front door expecting to see her daughter’s usual dark countenance. Instead, she was confronted by a very worried-looking and agitated Michael Hannon.

  ‘Are the kids here, Mary?’

  Michael was already inside the house, looking around him as if expecting the children to leap out of their hiding places in front of his eyes.

  ‘No, they are with their mother, what’s wrong? What’s happened?’

  Mary was already uptight as it was, she knew that Michael Hannon’s arrival this late at night, out of the blue, could only herald bad news for her grandchildren. The fear was taking over now and she was finding it hard to breathe. She felt the terror that her daughter’s lifestyle could bring in an instant. ‘What has she done now? Tell me what’s happened!’

  Michael looked at the woman he had come to love as if she was his own flesh and blood and he said sadly, ‘Mel has upset a lot of people again, heavy-duty people. But they have swallowed because of you, and because of me, and out of respect for her father and what he stood for. But now she has really crossed the line, Mary. Basil is going to fucking open her up, he’s going to wipe her off the face of the earth.’

  Mary was staring at Michael as if she had never seen him before in her life and had come home to find him naked in her bath, drinking her Scotch while listening to her Connie Francis LPs. It was not to be believed, yet she knew he was on the up and up. Michael Hannon would not lie to her.

  ‘Did you say Basil? That Basil is going to open Imelda up? Are you off your fucking game? Imelda could wipe the floor with him with one hand tied behind her back.’

  Michael nodded. ‘Yeah, that is what everyone seems to think, Mary, only he ain’t as big a mug as people tend to think. He has a much bigger stake in the world than he lets on. Also, he is now in cahoots with Jimmy Bailey and the Driscolls. Mary, Basil has got to teach Imelda a lesson, it’s a matter of pride now as well as everything else.’

  Mary was half-pissed and wondering what had caused Michael Hannon to come to her home accusing all and sundry. ‘Come and have a drink. You have it all wrong, Basil wouldn’t hurt Mel. You know he is one of the good guys, he is a blinder.’

  Michael was not in the mood for a government white paper on his news, he was only interested in making this woman understand the seriousness of what he was trying tell her. He pushed her in the chest, none too gently, his anger taking over.

  ‘She’s been running a fucking nonce-fest with that Jed by all accounts, Mary. They have been delivering young girls all over the Smoke and, as if that ain’t enough, they have been using Basil’s name to collect the earn. She has been using girls as young as twelve, Mary. Basil is like the Antichrist, I have never seen him so fucking worked up before. He is on his way over to hers now. He has the blessing of everyone; he is in the big time and no one realised that, especially not Imelda, by the sounds of it.’

  Mary was shaking her head in denial, even Imelda was not capable of doing something like that. It was a misunderstanding, it had to be. If it was true, what was happening to her grandchildren?

  ‘You are wrong. Imelda has her faults, and they are legion, I know that better than anyone. But she would never be involved in anything like that. No way . . .’

  ‘Oh, Mary. She is scum, you know that. She is capable of anything, and as for this latest fucking debacle, I heard it from the horse’s mouth. She is using everyone around her, as always. Well, I have given her the benefit of the doubt in the past, but not any more.’

  Mary was shocked into silence. But a voice inside her head was screaming over and over. It was Jed who wanted the kids there. Jed who insisted that her daughter have the kids overnight. Jed who had convinced her that Imelda was only ever going to learn to love and care for her kids if she spent time with them. It was Jed who was to blame, it had to be.

  Mary felt physically sick at what she knew was going to turn out to be the truth, no matter how much she hoped that it wouldn’t. She knew that Hannon would not have come near her unless he had been convinced that what he had been told was gospel.

  Jed was rolling a joint and Led Zeppelin was pounding out ‘Black Dog’ on the stereo as Jordanna tried to shout over the noise. It was deafening, and it was the norm for her and her brother. They were expected to sleep through it all, were expected to be immune to the racket. She actually liked Led Zeppelin, she only wished her mother and Jed did not feel that it was only relevant if it was played as loud as possible. She knew that this racket would go on for hours now. But she needed to attract their attention, and she knew it was not going to be easy.

  Her mother was burning a spoonful of skag, and Jordanna knew she would not listen to her now even if she happened to be accompanied by the Holy Trinity. The hammering on the front door continued as Jordanna tried to attract the attention of her mother, or at least the attention of her mother’s lover. The people trying to gain access to the house were now shouting through the letter box, and she could hear the annoyance in their voices even if she could not understand what they were saying.

  She shouted once more as loudly as she could, ‘There’s someone at the door.’ But the music was so loud, and so heavy, her little voice was completely lost. She could not compete with electric guitars and Robert Plant. Jordanna knew she was fighting a losing battle so she decided to answer the door herself. She assumed it was one of their friends, assumed it was another junkie who would flake out with her mum on the sofa, all smiles and silence. Or it could be a drinker who had nowhere to go, a pisshead who would eventually flake out with Jed. That was something Jordanna had sussed out a long time ago. No one came here through choice, it was the last resort for most people, the only place where they could be guaranteed some kind of welcome and, even then, that welcome depended on what they had brought with them. Jordanna knew her mother would want to see the people who had arrived in the middle of the night, would welcome them with open arms. And if she didn’t answer the door her mother would accuse her of being lazy, of being a vindictive little bitch.

  So Jordanna knew that answering the front door was her best bet and she did just that.

  She was knocked off her feet by the three burly men who burst inside the small hallway, followed by a seriously irate Basil. Jordanna had only opened the door a fraction and, when it was slammed against the wall she found herself lying in the bedroom doorway, winded and frightened at what she might have caused by her actions.

  She recognised Basil and wondered why he didn’t even bother to acknowledge her. He had always said hello to her in the past but tonight he was not even looking in her direction; it was as if she was invisible.

  He had three men with him, two huge black men with shaved heads and expensive leather jackets and a heavy-set white guy with a baseball bat, a really bad perm, and a mouth full of gold teeth, and they were already making their way into the front room.

  Jordanna knew aggravation when she saw it. She had seen enough of it in her short but eventful life. She knew that she had done a wrong one, and that it would probably cost her dearly in the long run.

  As she watched the commotion that erupted around her, Kenny came out of the bedroom and stood beside her, watching with wide eyes as Basil shut the front door once more, locked it firmly, and then stormed into the lounge where Imelda and Jed were standing like stuffed dummies, their faces white and frightened.

  Jordanna noticed that neither of them even attempted to ask what they were being punished for. But a punishment was the only reason for something like this, was the only rational explanation for such a situation. As the baseball bat crunched heavily against her mother’s head, Jordanna closed her eyes tightly and, pulling her little brother behind her, she went back inside the foetid-smelling bedroom they shared. She shut the door quietly, then proceeded to push anything she could move in front of it. She dra
gged the old dressing table with its water-stained mirrors and scuffed surfaces across the room, using all of her strength to push it in front of the door. She was determined to keep trouble out of this bedroom, whatever her mother had managed to cause this time. After all, she knew that there was a good chance they could be next in line for a beating.

  Jordanna then prayed out loud that her brother would be spared from harm. She had already experienced so much in her little life, but she was determined that Kenny Boy would not have to be a part of this. Imelda, her mother, seemed to court danger, seemed to attract violence and it was not fair that they were caught up in her crossfire. She knew how dangerous her mother’s life could be, knew how easy it was to be caught up in the lunacy that surrounded her. Jordanna had been dragged into a nightmare once before and she was terrified of it happening to her again.

  She could hear screams of pain and fear, hear the dull thudding sound of the baseball bat as it smashed against bone and skin. She heard the commotion of her mother and Jed trying to escape the fury of their attackers.

  She could hear the absolute violence of the attack, the sounds of the beating, the terror and the anger. She knew that fists and feet were involved and also that it was not like anything they had experienced before. Jordanna knew that this was about something very serious, and very dangerous. The whole place was drenched with the stench of hatred and revenge.

  She held on to her little brother, burying his face into her body as she tried to drown out the noise of the fracas. Her eyes were wide with fear, and they were almost glued to the door as she waited to see if the men involved were going to come after them, were going to make sure they did not have any kind of tale to tell about what had occurred this night. She knew that if this was as serious as it sounded, Kenny and herself were living on borrowed time.

  Kenny was distraught now, sobbing with fear, terrified at the noises he could hear coming from behind their closed door. He had finally realised, even as little as he was, that this was a very serious situation, and that they were both in real danger. For the first time in his life, he understood how precarious their lives were when in the care of their mother. He had just realised how dangerous and perilous life could be, thanks to Imelda’s lifestyle and her complete disregard for her own children’s well-being or safety. Jordanna knew exactly how her brother felt, she had been through the same thing herself many times.

  As she heard her mother howling in pain, heard the cursing and threats from Basil and his cohorts, Jordanna grabbed her brother roughly and forced him underneath the bed that they shared, pushing him against the wall, making sure he was as far away from the danger as was physically possible. She then lay beside him, holding him tightly against her and, whimpering in fear, she waited for Basil and his cronies to come for them as well.

  Jordanna could taste the fright that had enveloped them, could feel the coldness of their terror and knew that Kenny would not be able to forget what had happened, knew that this time the situation would stay in his mind for a long time to come. She also realised that Imelda would finally lose the power she had over her beloved son, and Jordanna knew that could only be a good thing for all concerned. It would do Kenny the world of good to see his mother for what she really was. Jordanna knew that the fracas that was occurring this night would in effect make Kenny realise that they could never really be safe around Imelda, he would finally be able to understand that she was bad news, that when they were with her, they were always going to be exposed to this kind of violence.

  As Jordanna lay beneath the bed, she could smell the filth that was ingrained in the carpet and feel the stickiness of her mother’s life. She knew she was lying on years of dirt, stale urine from her mother and her cronies, when they had been so wasted they had not even been capable of using the bathroom, and she felt the loneliness of neglect. She knew how it felt to be dismissed by the person who should have loved you more than anyone, who had grown you from a seed, had kept you safe inside them for nine long months. She knew the loneliness of being ignored, of being invisible to the one person who should have been the mainstay of your life. She was due to start school soon, and she knew she was already more educated than anyone of her age had a right to be. She had not had a choice, she had spent her whole life seeing how the land lay, judging how best to act around her mother, and her mother’s friends. She had sussed out, as a babe in arms, that her mother was not someone you antagonised. She hoped that if they both survived this, they would be allowed to stay at their granny’s without having to keep on coming to their mother’s house all the time. Jordanna knew that school would curtail her visits, and she hoped that her absence would curtail poor Kenny Boy’s as well.

  Kenny was shaking in abject terror, he was shivering with fear and shock, the sounds of his mother’s beating were loud and Jordanna knew that her screams would stay with him for a long time after this was all finally over. She knew he could hear Imelda’s voice as she begged for mercy, knew he could hear Basil’s voice as he threatened and accused Imelda of all sorts. As he swore at her, called her names, he sounded so different to the man they had always known. The man who had been a friend to them all. It made this whole thing even more horrific because Basil was one of the only people who had ever been kind to them, and now he was the enemy. He was what was frightening them both out of their wits, he had become their biggest fear. If he decided to come after them, they were helpless and she knew that; they were only babies. Babies who were lying under a bed, terrified out of their minds, who already knew that life could be harsh, frightening and perilous. They clung tightly to each other and Jordanna whispered quietly into her brother’s ear, telling him to keep silent so as not to draw any attention to them. She held him in her arms and calmed him with her words and with her love. She knew that he was shrewd enough to understand that they were not to advertise their presence in any way.

  She wondered briefly if, when it all went quiet, her mother would be dead.

  Basil was mortified at what he had done; he was also aware that he had been left with no other choice, Imelda had forced him into a corner. She had known that her actions would have had dire consequences. She was a bloody pulp, and that did not bother him. It was Jed, he was dying and he knew it. He was still trying to talk, trying to beg for his life. His lips were smashed beyond recognition, as was his face, but they were still moving, talking, he was still trying to justify his behaviour.

  As the men looked at their prey without any kind of feelings whatsoever, Basil knew that he had stepped over the line. He was now blooded; he had said he was going to pay her out for her treachery, and he had done it.

  He saw Imelda’s eyes flicker, was amazed at his feeling; he wanted to finish her off. He felt the urge to start kicking her again, he wanted to wipe her off the face of the earth.

  ‘Are you coming?’

  Basil shook his head slowly. ‘You lot go. I have something to do, I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  The men left quietly. They were not in a rush, they knew that no one was going to be coming here this night. That had been arranged beforehand. It had all been put in place and, if you planned well, you were pretty much guaranteed an easy shoot. It cost, but it was worth the initial lay-out. No one wanted a capture, especially not for a piece of shit like Imelda.

  Basil sat down on the nearest chair, suddenly exhausted. He knew that Imelda would come away from this with her life intact, she was as strong as a fucking ox. But he knew that was for the best, he knew that he wanted her to remember what he had done to her. He wanted her to look at the scars every day, and be reminded of what she had done. He wanted her to remember that he had been the cause of them, had been the instigator of her demise. And now he would make sure that she never worked again, unless it was on the pavement.

  She had been so good at running things; she was a cunt, if she had been content with her lot, she would have been under his protection for life, and on a decent earn. Now she was finished, she was destroyed, in more ways than on
e.

  Imelda Dooley looked like a bloody lump of meat, there was nothing to remind anyone of how lovely she had been. She would heal, and she would get back on her feet, but she would never again look in the mirror and see a beauty, see a looker. She would have to mourn the good looks she had taken for granted all her life, She would finally know what it was like to have to rely on her personality and not her looks. Ergo, she was finished.

  Basil heard Mary and Michael Hannon coming in the flat before he saw them. Mary stood in the doorway, her hand clutched over her mouth, her eyes wide with terror. Michael was behind her, looking at the little tableau without any kind of expression on his face. He was not about to show his hand, and Basil respected that. Looking at Mary he said quietly, ‘You knew the score and you knew that this was on the cards.’

  Mary was looking at the carnage that had once been her daughter, who was only recognisable by her clothes. What was left of them anyway. She was a bloody pulp. She was still breathing but it was loud and laboured, it sounded raspy and painful, and she was sorry that it didn’t move her in any way. She was sorry that she did not feel in the least bit protective of her child. She had come here through instinct, but not for Imelda; for her grandchildren.

  ‘Ain’t you got nothing to say, Michael? I waited for you both. I wanted to see you here while it was still new. Fresh. So, what have you got to say for yourself ?’

  Michael Hannon stared warily at Basil, he had not expected this at all. He had known it would all come out on top, but not like this. Imelda and Jed had been beaten and tortured, they had known exactly what was happening to them, and why it was happening to them, no doubt. He knew that there would not be any kind of come-back. But looking round this room, at the blood splatters on the walls, and the destruction of the faces, he knew that this was a completely different Basil from the one he had known all these years.