by Martina Cole
In the recesses of her mind she heard him groan and was aware he was still alive. Her breath was coming in deep gulps, a hoarse whisper escaping from her lips with each gasping breath. Her chest hurt, her arms ached, but she felt a sort of peace descend on her body as she stared at the man before her.
‘You’ll never do to anyone what you did to me, are you listening?’ Her voice was low in the room. The three people at the door watched her in the firelight with a strange fascination. ‘You tried to ruin me, Henry, and you failed, you’ll always fail, because as God is my witness, the next time I have any dealings with you, you’ll die. Ronnie Olds is dead, so’s Bolger. You’ve no one and nothing on your side now. All you have left is me, and I’m gonna watch you from now on, mate. If you so much as shit I’ll know what colour it is. That will be my revenge on you, boy. I’ll see you never play your little games again.’
Henry looked up at her, and even through his pain he realised that in trying to destroy her, he had inadvertently destroyed himself.
‘You so much as breathe at Benedict and I’ll hear about it. I’ve eyes in your house and in your workplace. My boy is all I have in the world, and thanks to you and Isabel I have to look after him from afar. Well, you’ll toe the line after tonight, Henry big man Dumas. You’ll be a proper father to him. If you so much as look at him out of place, I’ll ring your fucking neck. Do you understand me?’
He looked up at her, his face and mouth bleeding profusely.
‘DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?’
Her voice echoed around the room and Henry nodded, the action making him wince.
‘You sicken me. You make me hate like I’ve never hated before. You made me what I am today, and I’ll never forgive you for it.’
She turned from him and walked to the door. Looking into Christine Howell’s face, she sneered, ‘I know you.’ She looked at Tommy who was still watching her with awe. ‘We went to school together, we was in the same class.’ Then, taking back her arm, she slapped the woman a heavy blow to the side of her face.
‘You dirty bitch, you’d give your little child to him? Your own flesh and blood!’ The little girl, her face pressed into Tommy’s thigh, began to whimper. Briony shook her head in wonder.
‘She’s a beautiful child, and you’d let him touch her! You’d deliver her to him on a plate. Well, your game’s over now. You and that child are leaving this drum tonight. I don’t care where you go or what you do, Christine, but I’ll keep my eye on this little girl. I’ll make sure you look out for her or you’ll answer to me. By Christ, you’ll answer to me!’
Kerry watched Evander talking to Glennford. She smiled over at them and waved. They waved back and grinned at her, but Glennford’s grin was forced.
‘I’m telling you, Evander, you’re in over your head, boy. From what I have been told, her dear sister, our employer, is now some kind of gang boss here. Her and that Tommy wasted four men the other night! They’re bad people to mess with, and you’re sleeping with her kid sister.’
Glennford’s face was covered with a thin sheen of sweat. Since hearing the talk about Briony and Tommy he had become very worried for his friend, and not a little concerned for himself and the other members of his band. Mud tended to stick in his experience, and the mud would be flying in all directions if Evander’s association with Kerry Cavanagh came to light.
‘I’ll sort it out, don’t worry.’ Evander’s voice was low. His athletic body moved away with speed and easy grace. Glennford stared after him, a feeling of foreboding inside him.
Evander walked to Kerry and smiled at her.
‘You look beautiful.’
Kerry smiled up into his eyes and gave a low throaty chuckle.
‘So do you.’ Without thinking what she was doing, Kerry put up her fingers and touched his face gently.
Glennford watched the exchange and felt the feeling of foreboding once more.
‘You look as white as a ghost, Briony. Are you drinking enough milk?’
Molly’s voice was beginning to annoy Briony. Taking a deep breath, she said: ‘Give it a rest, Mum. It’s been a hectic few days.’
Molly wiped Rosalee’s face with a handkerchief and grinned. ‘It has that, child. Oh, you should have seen the way I was treated down the Lane. Like visiting royalty. “Yes, Mrs Cavanagh. No, Mrs Cavanagh. And how’s the girls, Mrs Cavanagh? Give Briony my regards, Mrs Cavanagh.” Huh! The two-faced bastards. I can remember when I couldn’t get a fecking smile outa them. When I had a shilling on a piece of string to see me through the week. Collecting the rotten veg from the gutters as they packed up for the day to keep you lot fed. While that drunken sod of a father pissed away the money in The Chequers ...’
Briony put her hand up to her head and groaned.
‘Oh, Mum, we’re not going through all that again, are we? You’re all right now, aren’t you? You’ve got plenty of money now. Don’t I see you all right?’
Molly looked at her daughter with concern.
‘Jesus and Mary, you’re a daughter any woman would be proud of. Look at the way you handle your businesses. But sometimes, when I remember how it was, how it could have been, I feel the old sadness creep over me. It’s hard to see your babies hungry, you know. To hear them cry themselves to sleep. It’s a sound that never leaves you. You hear it sometimes on the wind when it’s whistling around your house. It still taps on the windows, taunting you in the cold weather.’
Briony smiled a smile she didn’t think she had in her.
‘Well, stop remembering! The old man’s dead, and we’re all alive and kicking. We’ve plenty. Even if I never made another penny we’d have enough to keep us all for the rest of our days. So stop worrying. Now, what’s happening about Eileen?’
‘Well, we thought we’d have the wedding in six weeks’ time. I’ve booked the church, and she’s waiting ’til you’ve a minute to yourself to help her pick the dress. You, Kerry and Bernie and Eileen can all go out together one day. What do you think?’
‘That would be lovely. I know a dressmaker in Bond Street who’ll knock her up a stunner. Real silk and all. She makes my clothes.’
Molly felt as if her heart would burst. Wait till she bragged about this to everyone! A real seamstress making Eileen’s dress. She’d knock their eyes for them.
‘I don’t think it’ll be long before our Kerry’s giving us a bit of news. She’s got a man or I’m Anne Boleyn. Do you know who he is, like?’
Briony shook her head.
‘It’s news to me. I’ve never seen her with a bloke. No one in particular anyway. There’s a young fellow at the club ... he’s an Earl’s son. A second son mind, so he won’t get the title, but he’s besotted with her. Moons over her all the time. But so far as I know he ain’t got anywhere. She’s a dark horse, old Kerry. She’ll do her own choosing, her, and once she chooses, that’ll be it.’
Molly smiled and nodded.
‘An Earl’s son. Oh, that would be nice, that would.’
‘Anyone you think is gentry, as you put it, would do for you, wouldn’t it? Even if he had a hump on his back and a club foot! Mum, believe me, they’re no different from us. They eat, sleep and shit, same as we do. They just do it in nicer surroundings!’
Molly flapped her hand at her daughter and laughed out loud. ‘I’d rather my girls did it in nicer surroundings as well. When I think of what we came from and where we are now. Well, I tell you, girl, it does me heart good. Even my Rosie looks a different girl.’
Rosalee, hearing her name, grinned and clapped her hands together.
‘Bri, Bri.’
‘She loves the bones of you, Briony. You’ve done so well, child. I couldn’t have been happier at the way you’ve turned out. You lot could have been living in the basements now with four or five children hanging round your necks and the back of some bastard’s hand round your lug on a Friday. But not my girls! I can look people in the face now and say: “Not my girls.” My girls are women to be envious of, and believe me, people are envi
ous of you. That Nellie Flanagan - well, it’s like a poker up her arse to think of you lot and what you’ve become!’
Briony laughed despite herself.
‘I hope you won’t use expressions like that if Kerry does bring home an Earl’s son!’
Molly grinned back and said in her best imitation of a posh voice: ‘I’d say poker up her behind if I was in good company!’
They laughed together loudly, Briony’s laugh bordering on the hysterical.
Molly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and said seriously to her daughter, ‘You’re all right, Bri, aren’t you? I mean, now you’re like you are. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?’
Briony felt an urge to tell her mother everything in her heart, but she knew Molly wouldn’t want to hear it. So instead she lit herself a cigarette and said brightly, ‘Of course I am! You’re looking at the first female Baron of this town, and I intend to keep me title, Mother, no matter what. Me and Tommy have this place sewn up.’
Molly laughed in delight. That was exactly what she wanted to hear. After experiencing life with an influential daughter, a really influential daughter, she couldn’t bear the thought of having her new position taken from her.
To Briony, this knowledge was just another cross to bear.
Briony walked into the warmth of The Windjammer and listened to the sounds of conversation and glasses rattling. Giving her coat to Donna, the hat check girl, she smiled at her briefly before entering the club itself.
It was full. People who couldn’t find seats were standing around in small groups, breathing in cigarette smoke and perfume. She pushed through the throng, greeting people as she went. Not stopping to chat, she made her way to the small dance area, scanned the tables, and was surprised to see Tommy sitting with Rupert and Jonathan. She saw his flushed face and guessed he had been drinking. Jonathan noticed her and waved her over. His face was flushed and sweating too. Briony walked across the small dance floor and deliberately ignored the people watching her. She felt as if she was in a glass bubble, on show to the world. She sat beside Tommy and he kissed her on the lips.
She had dressed in a deep crimson dress which accentuated her white skin and green eyes. She looked startling, almost too bright. The colour gave her a brittle quality, her rouge a deep stain on her cheekbones, her lips a deep crimson to match her dress. Tommy eyed her for a few seconds before kissing her again, this time on her cheek.
‘Hello, darlin’. Have a glass of champagne.’
She took the fluted glass from him and sipped the cold liquid. Then, tilting her head back, she drank it down, holding the glass out again for another drink.
Five glasses later she was having a friendly argument with Jonathan about the films they were going to make. He wanted art, she decided to be contrary and insist on porn. Tommy sat back and listened to them with a smile on his face.
She was holding up. He had counted on that. While she was sorting out her mind, coming to terms with herself and her actions, he had been organising their protection and their new workforce. Tommy had no qualms about what he had done. It was over with, finished, done. Briony was a different kettle of fish; she needed to adjust to her new status. But he knew that once she did, the two of them would be a dynamite team, and nothing and no one could ever stop them.
People dropped by their table to pay their respects. Men who would not normally have been seen dead in their club had made a pilgrimage to the West End to offer their support and friendship, and Briony gave them just the right amount of her time and her interest.
Tommy sat back and relaxed. She was holding up all right, as he had known she would. By the time Kerry had finished her second set, Briony looked positively relaxed.
Chapter Seventeen
Briony lay in the bed alone, her head thumping. She closed her eyes tightly to stem the pain. She could hear the sounds of the household coming from below, the heavy tread of Mrs Horlock on the stairs, and the rattling of crockery. Her bedroom door was pushed open and the tray of tea was placed on her night table. Without a word the older woman went to the heavy curtains and opened them, letting in the weak sunshine.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Briony’s voice was low and angry.
‘What’s it look like? You deaf now as well as stupid?’
Mrs Horlock bustled to the bed and began pouring out the strong tea. Kitchen tea, thick and black, which she knew Briony loved.
She squinted up at the woman and said: ‘What did you just say?’
Mrs Horlock laughed loud. ‘So, the dead arose and appeared to many! My God, you look terrible. Worse than a Saturday night whore on Monday morning. How long are you going to keep this up?’
Briony was blinking her eyes rapidly and straining to keep her temper.
‘Keep what up?’
‘Drink your tea.’ She thrust out the white china mug, spilling a few drops on the bedspread.
Briony sat up in bed and, taking the mug, slammed it down on to the bedside table.
‘Keep what up, I said? Answer me, woman!’ Raising her voice made her wince and she held on to her head gently. ‘Oh, piss off, I ain’t in the mood.’
‘Look at you, Briony. You look a disgrace. You’ve bags under your eyes big enough for me to get me weekly shopping in. Your skin’s in a terrible state, no doubt due to your drinking like a fish and eating like a bird. You was thin before, fashionably thin, now you’re like a scrawny cat! Even your hair’s in rat’s tails. And don’t think you can talk to me any way you like because you can’t. I’ve put up with your bad mouthing for the last month, and all I can say is, grow up!’
Briony sat up in the bed, stunned.
‘How dare you...’
‘I dare, young lady! I dare. Because you might be Miss Big out there, but to me you’ll always be a child. You’ve drunk yourself stupid now for over a month. Out ’til all hours, coming in roaring drunk and upsetting the whole house. Arguing with Tommy like a demented woman.’
‘This is my house...’
Mrs Horlock stuck her face close to Briony’s and cut off her tirade.
‘Well, you might just find yourself all on your own in it if you’re not careful. Because you pull another stunt like you did last night and we’ll all bugger off!’
Briony racked her brains to remember the night before. ‘What happened last night?’ Her voice was low now, bewildered.
‘Huh! Last night you picked a fight with your new minders, Jimmy and David Harles. You woke up first the whole street, then the whole household, and you told Cissy to fuck off out of it at three o’clock this morning. You took a swing at Tommy, which is why he’s not in bed beside you. I don’t know where he went, but if it was to another woman, who could blame him.’
Briony groaned, it was all coming back to her slowly, in crystal clear pictures.
‘My God.’
‘Well, I’m glad you think of him as yours because I’ve a feeling on me you just might need him. What’s wrong with you, girl? You’ve been like a bear with a sore arse for weeks.’
Briony shook her head and said sadly, ‘I really don’t know. I feel like I’m going to explode or something. Since we had all the carry on with Olds, we’ve had people constantly sitting outside the house. I can’t shit but I have to have a minder with me! I feel as if my whole life’s in everyone else’s hands but me own. Even the clubs had to tighten security, the houses have more locks on them than Fort Knox! The girls treat me differently. It’s “Miss Cavanagh” this and “Miss Cavanagh” that. I feel like a freak.’
‘Oh, my heart’s bleeding for you. Don’t give me all that old fanny, Briony. You made your bed, as the saying goes. And there’s another saying might interest you: Don’t play with the big boys unless you know the rules to their games.’
‘Oh sod off!’
‘Drink your tea and get washed, you smell like a drayman’s cart! Then get yourself out of that bed and come and eat something. Your mother will be here soon, about the wedding. Not that you’v
e shown much interest in that either this last few weeks!’
The old woman took the mug of tea and thrust it into her hands.
‘Get that down your neck and I’ll run you a bath, then you can apologise to Cissy and the minders as well. No one, no matter who they are, is above common courtesy. Remember that, young lady.’
She flounced from the room and Briony closed her eyes and sighed. The truth hurt, but sometimes it was a welcome pain. She drank her tea.
Molly sat with Eileen and Rosalee, her face dark. Briony walked into the room and smiled widely, ignoring the pain thumping in her head.
‘Hello, Mum, Eileen.’ Kneeling down she kissed Rosalee’s face. ‘Hello, Rosie.’ Rosalee hugged Briony to her.
‘This is a fine time to crawl out of bed, I must say, and your sister getting married.’
Briony laughed.
‘What? You getting married today then, Ei? Have I missed the service?’
Eileen burst into tears and Briony realised something had gone drastically wrong.
‘Sorry, Ei, I was only joking.’ She put her arm around her sister’s shoulders.
‘It’s that eejit Joshua. He wants to postpone the wedding now. It’s that scut of a mother behind it, I swear. He turned up last night all sweetness and light, saying they should wait, it was all a bit quick, and he thought they should have a bit longer together courting. The bastard of hell! And there’s me, making them tea and leaving them together while I went in to old Mother Jones’. When I came home I found this one crying and your man nowhere to be seen. I’d have scalped the face of him if I’d have seen him.’
Briony knelt before Eileen and said: ‘Has he mentioned anything before now? Anything that would make you think he’d changed his mind?’
Eileen shook her head. ‘He hasn’t said a word, but he’s been funny for weeks now. For the last month. It’s as if I got the plague overnight or something. And his mother, she cut me dead the other day at Mass ... She doesn’t like me, Bri. I don’t know why.’ She dissolved into tears again.