by Martina Cole
‘Welcome home, Bri. We beat the fuckers! I told you we would, didn’t I?’
‘We did that. Mariah. Now I want a large brandy and a nice fag. Then I want to have a bath and wash me hair!’
Mariah poured her a brandy in a large balloon glass.
‘Cheers, everyone.’ Briony drank the burning spirit straight back. Then, sitting in a chair, she grinned.
‘By Christ, it’s nice to be home.’ Her voice broke then and everyone stood in amazement as she cried her eyes out. Molly finally went to her daughter and cuddled her.
‘Come on now, darling. Once we get your man out, Daniel, we’ll all be together again.’
Briony was saved from answering as Marcus and Tommy came through the front door.
Briony was swept up into Tommy’s arms and kissed hard on the mouth.
‘I’ve missed you, Bri. Oh, but I’ve missed you, girl!’
Then, in excitement and happiness, the homecoming party started in earnest.
Briony and Tommy lay in bed together, the aftermath of energetic lovemaking leaving them both warm and pleasantly tired.
‘Oh, Tommy, I’ve dreamt of this. Being with you again. I really thought me and you were going to go down and they would throw away the key.’
Tommy pulled her closer to him.
‘I’ll tell you something, Briony, I was shitting meself. But Mariah came up trumps. She put pressure on the right people. She knew who would be the most vulnerable, and the most helpful.’
‘You know, Tommy, I never thought Harry Limmington would have stooped to doctoring a statement. I always had him down as straight as a die. I know it sounds crazy, but him being bent, it’s upset me!’
Tommy laughed low.
‘I don’t believe you, Briony! He was after putting us away for the rest of our natural and you’re upset because he’s a little bent! I hope he gets ten years, the ugly ponce!’
She snuggled into his arms.
‘I never want to go inside again, Tommy. I think I’ll retire now.’
He laughed again, louder this time. ‘I’ll believe that when I see it.’
‘Believe it, Tommy Lane. I’m too old to be banged up!’
Tommy looked down into her green eyes. ‘You’ll never be old to me, Bri. You’ll always be the girl in the blue velvet dress.’
Briony kissed him again. ‘You’re an old bullshitter, Tommy Lane, but I love you.’
‘And I love you, Briony, more than you know.’
They were quiet for a while, just enjoying each other’s presence, then Tommy said: ‘What are we going to do about Daniel?’
Briony took a deep breath.
‘What can we do? There’s no way we can nobble for him, is there? It’s too big. Me and you were on charges so old they were practically entered in the Domesday Book! But Danny boy, they’ve got him bang to rights. He committed a grisly murder in a packed pub. He went too far, Tommy. He went over the top. For all we ever done, we never enjoyed any of it. To me and you it was always a means to an end. But Danny and Boysie, God love them, they enjoyed the killing. Especially Daniel.
‘They made the cardinal mistake. They really thought they were above the law. We both tried to tell them over the years, and this is the upshot. I have no intention of lifting a finger to get Daniel out. I’ll get him a brief and that’s that.’
Tommy stroked the erratic red hair he loved so much and said truthfully, ‘I’m glad.’
She sighed.
‘Are you? I’m not. I wonder what my Eileen would have thought of the way those two boys turned out? She entrusted them to me and I ruined them. I made the mistake I’ve always made. I loved them too much.’
Tommy pulled her to him and held her close.
‘You can never love anyone too much, Bri.’
But she didn’t answer him.
Briony opened the front door herself. It was early afternoon and everyone had eaten lunch. The doorbell rang as she was coming out of her kitchen with a large tin of cakes freshly baked that morning by Cissy for Tommy, who still ate as often as possible. Briony put the cake tin on the hall table and opened the door with a smile on her face, expecting it to be one of the bevy of reporters camped outside her house. She sent them out tea at intervals and they always thanked her politely.
She opened the door and the smile froze on her face.
‘Hello. I hope I’m not intruding?’
Briony felt a wave of heat wash over her body as the rich voice spoke to her. She stood stock still, her eyes boring into those of her son.
‘Benedict?’ It was a question.
The two stood looking at one another for long moments before Tommy came bowling into the entrance hall. One look at the man at the door told him everything. He saw the same green eyes, the same heart-shaped face, the same finely boned features. Even the man’s hair had a red tint.
‘Benedict? Bloody hell, Bri, he’s like the spit out of your mouth!’
Tommy’s incredulous voice broke the tension. Benedict felt himself being pulled over the threshold and into the warmth of his mother’s home.
Briony stared at her son from head to toe. She had to crane her neck to look up into his face, he was so tall. As big as Tommy. The two men shook hands, Tommy grabbing her son as if frightened Benedict was going to run away.
‘This is indeed a pleasure. I’ll go inside and keep everyone contained.’ He laughed. ‘I expect you two would like to see one another for a while in private?’
Benedict smiled as the big jovial man went back into the dining room and left them alone.
‘Come through to the drawing room, Benedict. We can talk there.’
He followed her. She looked amazingly youthful from behind. She had the same easy carriage that his own daughter had, along with the deep red hair and green eyes.
Inside the drawing room, Briony turned to face him.
‘I hope you’ve come in friendship, Benedict.’
She looked so small standing there, hands clasped in front of her like a schoolgirl, her brilliant eyes lowered. He felt as if someone had pushed a knife into his chest, so great was the pain. Then over her shoulder he saw a photograph of himself in a heavy silver frame. His childish face was smiling. The photograph was faded with age.
‘Sally took me to have that photograph taken, I can remember it as if it was yesterday. I realise now she worked for you as well as my family.’
Briony licked her dry lips.
‘I knew everything there was to know about you, Benedict, I got it all from her. Second hand, of course, but you’ll never know how much it meant to me. I never forgot you. Not a day has gone by but you’ve been in my mind. You have to believe that.’
‘It’s funny, but I do believe you. I know you loved me dearly. I’m sorry for the way I acted before...’ His voice faltered. ‘It was finding out the way I did.’
Briony dismissed it with a wave of one jewelled hand.
‘What can I do for you, Benedict?’
He smiled crookedly and shrugged his shoulders. Taking all his courage into his hands, he said, ‘You can start by filling me in on your life. Then, if you want, I’ll tell you about my wife Fen, and my children Henry and Natalie. Your grandchildren.’
Briony felt as if her chest was burning, so intense was the moment.
Of one mind they stepped towards one another and then Briony felt herself being pulled into the arms of her son, her flesh and blood. She could smell his aftershave, and a mingled scent of leather and tobacco. For the first time ever she was being held by her son, her big handsome son whom she had thought hated her, had been disgusted by her. It was a homecoming for both of them.
‘Oh, my son, my son. I’ve waited so long for this. A lifetime.’ Her words were thick with emotion and for long minutes they held one another, the only sound the deep steady ticking of the long case clock in the corner of the room.
Eventually Briony pulled her face from his coat. Smiling, she looked up into the face that mirrored her own.
‘Why? What made you come to me after all that’s happened in the last few weeks?’
Benedict smiled.
‘Because, Mother, you’re my blood, as silly as that may sound. You’re my mother. My reason for being. Your blood runs through my veins and the veins of my children.’ He grinned. ‘Do I sound pompous?’
Briony shook her head, unable to talk for the sheer enormity of what was happening to her.
‘I knew it that day. I had known about you for so long, but I couldn’t admit it to myself. Then my wife, dear Fen, pointed out to me what I had known myself all along. You are me, and I am you really. I wanted to come back that day and say I was sorry. I was paying you back for the hurt I was feeling over my father’s will. Over finding it all out like that. So cold-bloodedly. I can’t ever tell you how sorry I am.’
Briony grasped his hand and held it to her cheek.
‘You’re here now, Ben, that’s enough for me.’
‘I tried to help you. I put pressure on more than a few of my friends and colleagues.’
This statement pleased her enormously. She looked at him again, as if frightened he was going to disappear as quickly as he had come.
‘Thank you, Benedict. Thank you.’
As they stood there Molly burst into the room, her aged eyes still piercingly sharp.
‘What’s going on here then?’ Her voice was loud, distrustful.
Briony smiled. ‘Benedict, I’d like you to meet your maternal grandmother.’
She went to her mother and, taking her arm, walked her to Benedict and said proudly: ‘Mum, this is my son, Benedict Dumas.’
Molly smiled crookedly and said, ‘I’ve got eyes in me head. You look like two peas in a bleeding pod! Come here, son, give your old granny a kiss.’
Benedict kissed her on her papery cheek, feeling her frailness as he embraced her. Then the room seemed to be full of people. He was surrounded by his family, all smiling and looking at him curiously. He saw Bernadette and Kerry; saw his own children in these women, in their jawlines, in the movement of their head.
Yes, indeed, this was his real family. He held on to his grandmother and his mother, relishing the contact with people who were a part of him.
This was his family. Whether he liked it or not, this was the stock he came from. Then they were all touching him, wanting to get to know this big son of Briony’s, this extension to their large close-knit family. He was accepted immediately and at face value, something he had never experienced before in his life.
With all her troubles of the last weeks, with all her heartache over Boysie and Daniel, Briony still felt as if she led a charmed life.
The one thing she had wanted all her life, above everything, had now come about. After over fifty years of trouble, strife and heartbreak, when every family gathering had been bitter-sweet because one crucial person was always absent, always missing, the mainstay of her life was here now.
Benedict was in the fold.
Her son had come home to her.
Briony sat opposite Daniel in Wandsworth Prison. He was sitting with his legs crossed, his handsome face dour. She was listening intently to what he had to say.
‘Then, once I’m out, I’m going to go after the fucking lot of them. I’m going to tear the East End apart if needs be, but I’ll find them all. Every last one of them.’
Briony sighed softly. It was always the same.
‘As for that cunt Limmington, I heard he just got a slapped wrist. Well, I’ll fucking pay that slag out and all for my Boysie. You see if I don’t.
‘And did you see that ponce on Friday, did you? Telling the court how I pushed the knife into Mitchell’s mouth. I know that shite, I know his name and address. I’ll torture him and his fucking kids. I’ll torture his kids in front of him...’
Briony held up her hand.
‘Enough! For Christ’s sake, Daniel, that’s enough! You know the old saying, don’t you? “If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime.” You made a big mistake. You thought you could do what you wanted. Well, you can’t. I’ve got you McQuiddan and he’s good, but you’re going down, Danny boy. You’d best get used to that fact.’
Danny’s face twitched.
‘You and Tommy never went down, did you? You two got a result.’
Briony nodded. ‘We were charged with a very old crime, Danny boy. I know about violence, all right. But we were violent in the’twenties and believe me when I say you had to be violent then. You had to take what you wanted. It wasn’t like today, when the working classes can get an education, can follow their stars. I had the choice between looking after myself and my family, or going under, like me Mum had to.
‘You don’t know the first thing about real violence. Oh, you hurt people, you shoot them. But you have no inkling of real poverty, and that’s where real violence is bred. The survival of the fittest. Me and Tommy came from an era where eating regularly was a result, where keeping warm was a major occupation. You grew up with everything anyone could want. I even sent you two to Ampleforth and what for, eh? What the hell for? You even take pleasure in keeping your East End accent. I take the blame for you two - I should have knocked you down a peg when I had the chance; but being me, I loved you so much I couldn’t see your faults. I made excuses for you and in reality there were none. You were just a vicious little bastard and this is the upshot. I never hurt anyone for fun, for recognition. People had to tread heavily on my toes before I retaliated and that’s why I’m sitting here and you’re sitting there.’
Daniel sneered at her. ‘The voice of Briony Cavanagh. Shall I tell you something? We used to laugh at you and Tommy behind your backs. You was a joke to us. Me and Boysie, we had them there.’ He held out his palm. ‘We had them there, and would have kept them there and all. It was grasses who tucked us up and they’ll pay, believe me.’
Briony shook her head in sorrow. ‘Can’t you see anything, Danny? Can’t you see we’re living in a different world now? The days when you could walk into a pub with a shooter and expect everyone to turn a blind eye are long gone. You made the mistake of making too many enemies. The big I am, were you? Well look where it’s got you. I couldn’t give a monkey’s whether you laughed at us behind our backs, because at the end of the day, Tommy Lane is worth fifty of you, a hundred. That man deserves your respect. If you’d had any sense you’d have emulated him. Fifty years on and he’s still respected, still liked and what’s more, still outside on the street. The way you’re carrying on you won’t see the light of day until the year two thousand.’
‘Well, now we both know where we stand don’t we?’ Briony nodded. ‘We do. I blame you for my Boysie, he followed you in everything. I’ll give you a last bit of advice, my son: keep your head down and do your bird. No more outbursts in court threatening all and sundry, it just makes you look a prat.’
Danny’s eyes were blazing. ‘You know it all, don’t you? You’re not sitting in the dock. You and Tommy walked out your nicks and now you’re coming on to me like some kind of saint!’
Briony leant across the table and said through gritted teeth, ‘I told you, Danny, we were the old style of villain. You and Boysie could never understand us. Shall I tell you something? In all honesty, I never really wanted any of it. None of it. But I made my bed, as me mother would say, and I think we can safely say I lay down in it. For over fifty years. You two never had to do what you did, you chose it. You decided to be what you are.’
Daniel’s face was still twisted. Getting up, he said: ‘I ain’t listening to this shite. I’m better off in me cell. It’s Saturday, and on Saturday we can listen to our radios and have a laze about. Come to think of it, that’s what we do most days. But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? So if you’ll excuse me? I have better things to do.’
Briony sat stone-faced as he went to a prison officer to be taken back to his wing. People were staring at them, their last exchange having been overheard. Standing up she walked with as much dignity as she could out of t
he visiting room.
She had done her best.
Mr Justice Martin Panterfield stared at the man in the dock before him. He wiped his mouth with a spotlessly clean handkerchief before delivering his judgment to the packed but hushed courtroom.
‘Mr Daniel O’Malley, you have been found guilty of a vicious murder. Never before have I listened to such grisly accounts of barbaric and unnecessary violence. You took a knife and cold-bloodedly executed David Mitchell in full view of a packed public house. You and your twin brother terrified the East End of London, and were involved with a number of illegal businesses. You were a wicked and callous murderer who thought you could do what you wanted. You are the frightening result of this so-called permissive society. I would be failing in my duty to the public if I did not impose the maximum penalty the law dictates.
‘I hereby sentence you to life imprisonment with a recommendation you serve at least thirty years. Have you anything to say?’
Daniel stood up, hands clasped in front of him, face devoid of expression. Then he looked the judge in the eye and said clearly: ‘Yes, I have, mate. The name’s Cavanagh!’
The judge shook his bewigged head. Looking around the court, he said: ‘Take him down.’
Molly stood up then. Her face streaming tears, she screamed: ‘You dirty bastards, that’s my boy. My Boy! Danny, son, Danny.’ Her voice reverberated around the courtroom as Daniel was escorted from the dock by two burly policemen. On his way down to the holding cells he held up his arms in a victorious gesture and shouted:
‘That’s it, Gran! I’ll be back, I’ll be back!’ His voice was lost as he disappeared below.
Limmington looked at Briony and their eyes locked. She nodded at him almost imperceptibly. It was a job well done.
Chapter Forty-nine
Suzy looked around her mother’s front room, breathing in the scent of Airwick and furniture polish. She placed her hands roughly on her stomach, repressing the urge to scream. Her mother popped her head around the door and said; ‘Shall I make you a drink, love? How about a cuppa?’