Playing Dead

by Jessie Keane

  But . . . no. Slowly the dreams had receded and now she didn’t get them at all.

  He was gone.

  The door opened and Max stepped inside the room, closing it softly behind him.

  And maybe that’s down to him, Annie thought, watching him as he crossed the room to where she sat.

  Max had taken to sharing her bed most nights now, and she didn’t mean to, but nearly every morning she woke up clinging to him as a child clings to a favourite toy.

  But Max was no real comfort to her. Rather, he was a threat. To him, the sex meant nothing. He was going to take Layla from her one day.

  He came to the desk and sat down in one of the chairs on the opposite side.

  For her, it was so different. She loved him. She always had, always would.

  But he couldn’t let go of the hurt she’d caused him. And when Max was hurt, he lashed out. He sought revenge. And there could be no surer way to hurt her than to tear Layla from her side.

  ‘Thought I’d find you in here. All packed up? Ready to go?’

  Tomorrow, she would fly out on Concorde to check that Sonny had put the last touches to the club to have it ready for the opening. She still had to accept the fact that Lucco was co-owner – there was no way around that; but she was still majority shareholder, so fuck him. She’d booked tickets for herself, Layla and Gerda, but she had no confidence that Max would let Layla go with her.

  But if he did, here was the plan. After the opening, she was just going to take off in the States with Layla; they would lose themselves somewhere out there. It was a big country. He wouldn’t have the boys there to keep tabs on her. She could lose him, she knew she could do it. Start a new life for her and Layla somewhere, maybe California. Who knew?

  ‘Yep, we’re all packed up. Me and Layla and Gerda.’

  ‘Good. Only I saw the tickets on your dressing table, and you forgot to include me.’

  ‘What?’ Annie stared at him.

  ‘I’m sure it was an oversight. I’ll book mine this afternoon.’

  ‘What?’

  Max looked at her in mock exasperation.

  ‘What do you mean, “what?”? I’m your fucking minder, remember? Where you go, I go.’

  ‘But I didn’t think you’d want to.’ Her heart was hammering and her mouth was dry as ashes. So much for her plan. He meant it: he was coming with her. ‘Look, you don’t have to,’ she said hurriedly.

  ‘I’m coming,’ he said.

  ‘But you’ve got the manor to run. The boys . . .’

  ‘The boys have been running the damned manor without me; they can carry on doing it. No problem. So I’m coming with you.’

  ‘But you—’

  ‘No buts.’ He stood up, leaned over the desk and kissed her hard on the lips. ‘You and me, kemo sabe. We go together.’

  Yep. There went her plan, right out the window.

  So . . . she’d have to think of another one.

  Chapter 86

  ‘Shit, will you look at this?’ said the fireman to his pal.

  There had been a call-out from a nearby neighbour earlier in the evening, saying there was a fire at an unoccupied house called Whereys, down the lane. Now it was gone eleven, and the arc lights were glaring all around the sodden, smouldering wreckage of what had once been an expensive and elegant Victorian rectory. The huge cluster of barley-twist chimney pots was still standing, but little else remained.

  The crew were still damping-down, spraying the shell of the interior, when one of them all but fell over the dead body in the hall. They called the chief, and he came and looked down at the blackened, curled-up remnants of what had once been a human being.

  ‘Poor bastard,’ he said. ‘Thought the neighbours said no one was here?’

  ‘Chief!’ One of the crew had been out at the back, making sure the fire had not spread to the outbuildings. ‘You’d better come and see this . . .’

  The chief fire officer followed his colleague out to the workshop behind the gutted property. It was intact; the flames hadn’t reached it. And just as well. ‘If this lot had gone up . . .’ said the chief, looking around in wonder at the armoury inside the workshop. There were guns, knives, Samurai swords, but worse – there were also grenades and a box full of detonators.

  ‘Yeah. Would have made the mess the house is in look like nothing.’

  The chief chewed his lip. An unexplained corpse. A cache of arms.

  ‘Better call in the police,’ he said.

  Chapter 87

  ‘Hiya, babe, you all right?’ asked Dolly.

  It was later the same day and Max had dropped her off at the Palermo. He’d already shown her the Blue Parrot and the Shalimar – all three clubs had taken back their old names; the red neon ‘Annie’s’ signs had been pulled down.

  Max was back in charge here now. He was making it plain, stamping his authority on the situation once again. Gary and Steve seemed happy to move aside and let him take over. Once the baddest of bad boys, she knew he’d been shocked to find that the Carter firm under Annie’s guidance had become a practically legitimate security operation stretching out from the city to cover most of Essex.

  Annie wondered if he’d ever go back to the old ways, the days of heists and the hard game. She hoped not. Sooner or later, some keen copper was going to nail him, and then he’d go down for a long stretch. The thought of him caged up was painful to her. And what did that make her, she wondered? But she knew. She was a soft bloody fool where he was concerned, she always had been.

  He kept dropping her off here and there, fielding her anxious enquiries about wasn’t he coming in with her, what was he going to do? And when he half smiled at her, she knew that he could read her mind – that she was wondering was this going to be the time he took Layla from her, when her back was turned?

  Annie tried to get her mind off the subject. In the States, she would work things out. Alberto would help her. She could still win this.

  Yeah, and when you do, you’ll lose the man you love – and you’ll lose Layla her father, too.

  The club was busy with punters, go-go dancers and the pounding hypnotic beat of George Harrison singing ‘My Sweet Lord’. Dolly was sitting at the bar while the barman rushed back and forth taking orders when Annie pushed through the throng and joined her there.

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Annie. ‘You?’

  ‘Yep, fine and dandy.’ Dolly was sitting on a bar stool swinging one elegantly shod foot along to the music. She was sipping a gin and tonic. ‘Drink?’

  Annie shook her head. ‘How’s it going now the old names are back over the door?’ she asked her.

  Dolly shrugged. ‘Takings ain’t dipped,’ she said. ‘That’s the main thing. I’d say, no change.’

  ‘Jesus, just look what the cat’s dragged in,’ said a male voice behind her.

  Annie swivelled on her stool and looked round.

  Squat, dark-haired Steve Taylor and gangly blond Gary Tooley stood there like a wall of mean muscle. Dusty was with them, scowling at her with her boot-black eyes.

  ‘Hi, Steve,’ said Annie. ‘And Gary. Always a pleasure.’

  ‘Smooth cow,’ muttered Dusty.

  ‘Hey!’ said Dolly to her. ‘I don’t want any trouble, you hear me?’

  Dusty subsided.

  Annie turned back to Dolly, rolling her eyes.

  ‘You know what?’ Gary was saying loudly enough to be heard over the roar of George Harrison’s guitar. ‘If she was my old lady, I’d have fucking well drowned her by now.’

  Annie sat there. She was getting tired of this. At least Steve was sharp enough to keep his mouth shut, but Gary just always had to get a little poke in: he couldn’t resist it. She turned and stared at him.

  ‘And do you know what, Gary?’ she returned. ‘If I was your old lady, I’d drown myself.’

  ‘See? She’s full of it,’ said Dusty, glaring at her.

  ‘Not that I would ever have got myself tucked up with a long streak of piss like you in
the first place,’ said Annie.

  Gary’s lips tightened into a furious line.

  ‘Enough!’ said Dolly, slithering down from the bar stool and thumping the bar with one fist. ‘Now come on, boys and girls. If you can’t play nice, just fuck off out of it.’

  Annie glanced back at her best mate and smiled. Now that was Dolly. Telling it exactly like it was, without fear or favour.

  Gary gave both women a sneering look. ‘I wouldn’t fucking well lower myself,’ he said.

  ‘Good,’ shot back Dolly. She clicked her fingers at the barman and he hurried over. ‘Drinks and a meal on the house for Mr Taylor and Mr Tooley, okay?’

  Gary didn’t even thank her. He just gave the barman their order, said ‘We’ll be over there,’ and went off with Steve into the crowds to find his usual banquette.

  ‘He’s a bloody fool,’ said Dolly, hoisting herself back up onto her stool with difficulty. ‘Steve’s the clever one. Daft not to see how the wind’s blowing before you start shooting your mouth off.’

  ‘Oh, I think they both know which way the wind’s blowing,’ said Annie sadly.

  ‘What, he still mad at you?’

  ‘In spades.’

  Dolly nodded and sipped her G & T. ‘And he still hasn’t said anything about the club management . . .?’

  ‘Not a word.’

  Annie wished she could reassure Dolly. She was her oldest friend; she was an absolute diamond, solid as a rock and generous to a fault. Ellie was right when she said that Dolly would happily give away her arse and shit out of her armpit. But there was nothing she could say; the last thing she wanted was to give Dolly false hope.

  Dolly stared gloomily into her drink.

  ‘D’you know how Chris is getting on now?’ asked Annie. ‘I thought of phoning Ellie or popping over there, but I’m not her favourite person right now. She blames me for what happened to him. I think she’d lamp me.’

  Dolly brightened. ‘I spoke to her this afternoon. He’s doing well, he’s home now. Been given the all-clear.’

  Thank God for that. Annie breathed a sigh of pure relief.

  ‘And I mentioned how sorry you were about what happened. Not that it was your fault. But I said it, and Ells sort of warmed up a bit, and the bottom line is, I don’t think she’ll lamp you if you want to go over there and make up.’

  ‘Snooty cow,’ she heard from behind her.

  She turned a little. Dusty hadn’t followed Steve and Gary over to the banquette. She was leaning on the bar behind Annie, ears flapping as she listened in to their conversation.

  ‘Still here?’ Annie asked mildly.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Dusty. ‘And I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you in here any more.’

  Annie glanced back at Dolly, whose eyes were wide with amazement at the sheer brass neck of the girl.

  ‘So you did,’ said Annie. ‘But this’ll be the last time, I promise.’

  Dolly’s mouth dropped open.

  Dusty eyed Annie suspiciously.

  ‘Yeah, I give up,’ said Annie. ‘I’m leaving tomorrow, and I won’t be back for a while.’

  Dusty’s face was a picture of uncertainty. She’d had a ruck with Annie Carter last time, and come off worst. Was the bitch finally getting the message?

  ‘Well . . . good,’ said Dusty. ‘If you bloody mean it this time.’

  ‘I do. I’m leaving for the States tomorrow.’

  ‘Good.’ Dusty gave her one last derisory stare and started to walk away from the bar to join Gary and Steve.

  ‘Oh!’ Annie called after her. ‘Did I mention? Max is coming with me . . .’

  Chapter 88

  ‘Should I throw my hat in first?’ asked Annie.

  She was standing on the doorstep of the knocking-shop in Limehouse. She was still half laughing to herself about Dusty getting carted out of the Palermo by the bouncers, still shrieking at the top of her voice: I’ll get you, Annie Carter! Dolly had nearly fallen off her bar stool she was laughing so hard. Max had come back to the club to find both of them in the flat upstairs in a state close to hysterics, and had driven Annie on over to Ellie’s place. Now he was waiting in the car.

  Ellie had answered the door and now she stood there looking at Annie. Looking beyond her, Annie could see a couple of the girls – pretty little blonde Rosie and sharp-faced dark-haired Sharlene – clustered on the stairs ready to take in the action.

  Ellie looked very stern. Then her face crumpled and she almost smiled.

  ‘Oh for fuck’s sake,’ she muttered. ‘I s’pose you’d better come in.’

  Annie stepped inside the door and flicked a smile at the two girls on the stairs. They retreated upstairs, cheated of a fight. Annie followed Ellie along the hall to the kitchen, and there was Chris sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea.

  ‘Hey!’ Annie was delighted to see him. ‘For God’s sakes! You’re not back at work already?’

  He shrugged his massive shoulders and gave a sheepish smile.

  ‘It’s better than staying home with me old mum fussing around me,’ he grumbled.

  His voice was still hoarse, she noted. But he was suited and booted, ready for the day’s activities. Above the line of his clean white collar and neatly tied navy-blue tie, there was yellowing bruising.

  Annie sat down at the table. ‘You sure you’re well enough?’ she asked. Her eyes flickered from his – one eye still bloodshot, she noted – to his neck and then back again.

  ‘I feel okay,’ he said with a thin smile. ‘Fucking lucky to be alive, I reckon. I just sound bad now.’

  Annie sat back as Ellie poured out tea for her and placed it in front of her on the table.

  ‘I’m so bloody sorry, Chris. To get you into a situation like that.’

  ‘Christ, it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known. Any rate, it was the most excitement I’ve had in a long time. Better than turfing out lairy old punters with their kecks round their ankles.’

  ‘So, what you been up to?’ asked Ellie stiffly. Annie could see she wasn’t completely forgiven, not yet. Ellie sat down, sipped her tea.

  No biscuits, thought Annie. That was a first.

  ‘Dolly told me you’re off to New York tomorrow,’ said Ellie. ‘That right?’

  Annie nodded.

  ‘What about Mr Carter?’

  ‘He’s coming too.’ Again Annie got a flash of Dusty being bodily hauled out of the club door with her knickers on public display, and had to suppress a smile.

  ‘You two made it up?’ Chris asked.

  ‘I dunno. I can’t say. Not yet.’ The whole thing with her and Max was far too complex to start explaining to Chris and Ellie. She didn’t want to go there. She was going to have to fly by the seat of her pants on this one; she was going to have to wing it. And it could turn out bad, or good. She had no idea.

  ‘There was talk about him wanting to take Layla off you,’ said Ellie.

  ‘We haven’t discussed that,’ said Annie, drinking her tea.

  But he was going to try it. One day soon, for sure. She was just going to have to get in first – and the club’s opening night would be the perfect time to do it. Lots of people about, plenty of confusion. She’d pack a bag beforehand, and they’d slip away. Just her and Layla. Forget Gerda. She was going to have to move fast, and she couldn’t carry any passengers this time.

  ‘But you’re taking Layla with you tomorrow?’ quizzed Ellie.

  ‘Yeah. And Max – he wants to stick close to her.’

  ‘See?’ Ellie gave Chris a look. ‘Told you. He’s going to just whip that kid away, first chance he gets.’

  Annie finished her tea, very afraid that Ellie was right. He was just biding his time, waiting for the right moment. Well, so was she. She would beat him. She was determined on that. Tomorrow, New York. After that . . . who knew?

  ‘So what do you think?’ Ellie asked Chris after Annie had departed. ‘Maybe they’ll get back together.’

  She sat across the table
from him and thought, I love you. ‘Want a biscuit with that? Or I got some cake . . .?’ Her mum had fed her cake whenever she was low or ill.

  ‘Actually, no.’

  Chris looked down at his cup of tea and then up at Ellie, all dolled up in her Madam’s uniform of neat burgundy-red skirt suit, her dark hair flicked up on her shoulders, her plump, pale-skinned face full of concern for him. She wasn’t anything like his late wife. Nothing at all. But she was a good woman, and pretty, and she cared about him, and she had said in the hospital that she loved him. He had been mulling it over ever since, thinking: What should I do about that? Anything? Nothing?

  ‘Actually,’ he said at last, ‘I wanted to ask you something.’

  ‘Go on then.’ Ellie took a quick swig of tea.

  ‘Would you come out to dinner with me one night?’

  Ellie choked. She spluttered, went puce in the face. Chris leaned over and patted her briskly on the back.

  ‘What?’ she wheezed when she could speak.

  ‘Dinner. You know. Two people sitting at a table in a restaurant, eating stuff.’

  ‘Oh.’ She was staring at him.

  ‘If you don’t want to . . .’ he said.

  ‘No! Yes! Of course I bloody well want to,’ she babbled. My God! He was asking her out on a date.

  ‘Well, good.’ Chris gave a slight smile and stood up. ‘I’d better get on the door.’

  ‘Yeah. Absolutely,’ she said, grinning like a fool.

  She watched him walk along the hall and take up his usual position on his seat just inside the door. She clutched her empty mug and beamed with happiness. Thank you, God, she thought. And then the doorbell rang; the first punter of the day.

  She stood up, straightened her attire, and walked out into the hall with her wide professional smile firmly in place as Chris answered the door.

  New York

  Chapter 89

  ‘So what do you think?’ asked Annie, coming out of the bedroom.

  They had taken a suite at the Waldorf Astoria – she and Max, Layla and Gerda. They’d been touring the city, playing tourist, but now was the club’s opening night.