by Tara Hyland
Nina batted her false eyelashes. ‘Well, Ronan says we should cater to our customers’ every need.’
‘Is that so?’ Danny drawled.
They grinned at each other, a look of mutual understanding passing between them.
‘You’re in my way,’ an angry voice interrupted.
Danny and Nina turned to see Cara glaring at them. In an ivory lace mini-dress, matched with flat ballet shoes, she looked tall and willowy, all long legs and effortless class, the very opposite of Nina’s more obvious pin-up looks.
‘Sorry.’ Confronted by Danny’s girlfriend, Nina had the good grace to blush. Picking up her tray, she scurried off.
Cara didn’t speak at first. She sat back down, took a sip of champagne, then said, ‘So what was all that about?’
Danny shrugged. ‘Nothing.’
‘It didn’t look like nothing.’ Her voice was surprisingly calm, but Danny could hear the edge beneath.
‘I can’t help it if the poor girl can’t keep away from me.’ He felt bad now. It was just that he was considered important round here, and women liked that. Sometimes it was hard to say no. But he didn’t mean to hurt Cara; he loved her and only her. Leaning over, he put his arm around his girlfriend, pulling her to him. ‘Come on, love. Don’t give me a hard time. You know you’re the only girl for me.’
Cara stared at him for a long moment, and then decided to let it go.
‘OK.’ She forced a smile for the sake of the evening, but deep down she wasn’t reassured. She’d only nipped to the loo, and she’d come back to find Danny practically drooling over another woman. Stuff like that had been happening far too much lately. She didn’t think Danny had cheated on her yet, but she suspected it was only a matter of time.
It was a year now since she’d left her job at the club, and at first everything had been perfect. But recently, Danny had begun to grow tired of their domestic bliss. He seemed restless and bored – and not just with her. He seemed fed up with Finnbar, too. Danny wasn’t happy with the cut he was taking, and he had said more than once that he wanted to branch out on his own. It was dangerous talk. If Finnbar or one of his associates heard about it, they’d have no hesitation in teaching Danny a lesson. But whenever Cara said that to him, Danny didn’t seem to care. As always, he thought he was invincible. And that worried her more than all the Ninas in the world.
The following Sunday, as usual, Cara and Danny went round to his mother’s for lunch. Danny wasn’t able to settle all afternoon; he looked distracted, and it was left to Cara and Annie to keep the conversation going. The atmosphere during the meal was awkward, no one quite sure what was wrong, making it hard to put right.
They’d hardly finished eating when Danny stood up abruptly. ‘I’m going out to get some ciggies.’
Cara watched him go, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Annie gave her a sympathetic look. ‘I’ll make us a cuppa,’ she said.
The two women sat in the kitchen, drinking tea and waiting for his return, taking it in turns to glance up at the clock. By six, it was obvious he wasn’t coming back.
‘So much for having a nice, pleasant Sunday.’ Cara knew she sounded bitter, and she didn’t care.
‘Oh, sweetheart.’ Annie looked at her sadly. ‘You know you’re like a daughter to me, and I’d be only too delighted if you and Danny settled down to raise a family. But I know my boy. He ain’t the marrying kind. And as much as I like seeing you two together, I can’t say in all honesty that I see this story having a fairytale ending. Do you?’
Cara knew exactly what Annie meant, but she didn’t want to hear it. Not now.
‘Thanks for the advice,’ Cara said stiffly. ‘We’ll just have to see how it goes, won’t we?’
She made her excuses then, something about needing to get back. Annie watched her go. It was as close to a warning as she could give to the girl. In a way, she hoped she was wrong. But she knew her son well enough to realise that the only person he was ever going to look after was himself. It was just going to take Cara a while longer to wake up to that.
Cara got home to find the flat dark and empty. It was nearly half-ten by the time she heard Danny’s key in the lock. Springing off the sofa, she went out to the hall to face him, hands on her hips.
‘Where the hell did you get to?’ she demanded.
He pushed past her. ‘I bumped into some people. Ended up going for a drink.’
Cara followed him through, determined this time not to let it go. ‘And was Nina there?’ She already knew the answer – she could smell the other girl’s perfume: the cheap floral scent stinging her nostrils.
Danny looked at her coldly. ‘Yeah, she was. As were a lot of other people. Now, why don’t you stop being so bloody paranoid? You’re giving me a right headache.’
He went over and switched on the telly, settled into the armchair. Unable to prove whether he was lying or not, Cara decided to leave it, and instead went to the kitchen and took the plate of leftovers out of the fridge. ‘Your mum sent this back for you,’ she called through the little hatch. ‘Do you want me to heat it through?’
He didn’t even look up from his programme. ‘Nah, I had some grub when I was out.’
It hit Cara then, what she had known deep down for a long time: he had so little respect for her that he could be out with Nina all evening and assume he could still come back here at the end of the night. Now she saw that Danny was never going to change. This was her life, if she wanted it – waiting alone at home, for a man who might or might not come back to her.
In that split second of realisation, her mood changed.
‘You bastard!’ she growled, so low that he couldn’t have heard it over the sound from the television. Before she could think what she was doing, she sent the plate sailing through the kitchen hatch and across the sitting room. It smashed against the far wall, before falling, broken, to the floor, potato and gravy smeared across the paintwork.
Danny sprang out of his chair, his eyes blazing. ‘What the hell—’
But before he could finish the sentence, Cara had stormed into the sitting room, crossed the floor and slapped him hard across the face.
‘I hate you!’ she cried, striking him again.
His expression registered surprise, then irritation. But Cara hardly noticed. All she could think of was how much she wanted to hurt him – like he’d hurt her. And if she couldn’t do that emotionally, she’d settle for physically. Suddenly she was pouring all her frustrations out on him. She couldn’t stop herself: she was hitting, punching and scratching at him, her nails raking his flesh.
‘Stop that!’ he ordered, managing to catch her arms. He cuffed her wrists in one of his strong hands.
But Cara wasn’t listening. She was twisting and squirming in his grasp, struggling to break free so that she could hurt him some more. Wrenching one hand out of his grip, her nails ripped down the side of Danny’s face. He roared in pain, momentarily loosening his hold on her to put his hand to his damaged face. It was all the time Cara needed.
‘It’s over between us!’ she screamed at him, storming towards the bedroom. ‘I’m leaving you! Right now!’
She already had her suitcase out and had started throwing clothes inside, as he came through after her. ‘Oh no, you’re not!’ he snarled. ‘This isn’t over until I say it is!’
He came from behind her this time, one meaty arm clamping around her waist and lifting her straight up off the floor. Spitting and clawing at him like an angry cat, she tried to escape as he carried her across the room and dropped her in the middle of the bed.
‘Bastard!’ she seethed, struggling to get up. But he wasn’t about to let her go.
He was a strong guy, who made a living from physical violence. Cara had no chance of escape as he knelt over her, pinning her hands above her head, his knee clamping across her legs to stop her kicking out. She looked up then, saw his eyes burning with anger – and something else, too: a raw, base hunger. God, he was tur
ned on. That only made her even madder.
She bucked under him. ‘Get off me!’ Guessing his intention, she made one last effort to pull her right leg free from under him and, with all the strength she could muster, Cara kneed him as hard as she could in the groin.
Danny let out a cry of pain. His instinct for self-preservation set in, and before he could think what he was doing, he slapped Cara hard across the face, sending her reeling off the bed, cracking her head on the side table as she went.
The blow stunned her into silence. Pain shot through her head, and for a horrible moment her vision blurred. Crouched against the side of the bed, shaking with fear and misery, she let out a sob.
Busy nursing his sore appendage, Danny hadn’t noticed at first that anything was wrong. Now, hearing the noise, he looked over.
‘Cara?’ When she didn’t answer, he sat up and moved towards her. ‘Are you all right, love?’ He put his hand on her arm, but she flinched away from his touch.
She turned to look at him then, her eyes filled with hatred. ‘Does it look like I’m all right?’ she hissed.
Danny had no idea what to say. As Cara began to cry then, great, wracking sobs taking hold of her, he stared at his girlfriend, taking in the cut on her forehead, the blood pouring down her face. He looked down at his own chest and arms, covered in bites and scratches. It was only then that he began to fully appreciate what he’d done.
‘Oh God, Cara.’ He was genuinely filled with remorse. He reached out to put his arm around her then, but thought better of it. ‘I’m sorry. I am really sorry.’ He waited for her to say something, but she just kept on crying. ‘I didn’t mean to do that.’
The excuse sounded lame even to his ears. He couldn’t blame her as she sneered, ‘Well, as you didn’t mean to, then that’s all right.’
He winced at the sarcasm in her voice. Something told him that he’d crossed a line tonight, and that it wasn’t going to be possible to come back from this. He climbed off the bed then, kneeling down in front of her.
‘Cara, talk to me, will you? Tell me how to make this right.’
Cara looked at her boyfriend. She knew he was genuinely contrite, but it didn’t help matters. He wanted forgiveness, and right now she just couldn’t find it in herself to give him that comfort.
‘Just leave me alone, will you?’ she said tiredly. ‘I want to get some sleep.’
She lay down on the bed then, curled up on one side in a ball, her back to him. Although she’d made it plain that she didn’t want him there, Danny made no move to go. Cara could sense that he wanted to put things right between them, but wasn’t sure how. That was the thing about Danny – he behaved like a pig, and then expected to be able to make amends with a few words.
She wasn’t entirely surprised when he lay down next to her. He waited a moment, as though seeing if she would object, and then tentatively put one hand on her shoulder.
‘Please, Cara,’ he whispered. ‘Please forgive me.’
Cara didn’t answer. The truth was, she was tired of forgiving him. Deep down, she knew that she should leave him, but the problem was – where would she go? She had nothing in her life apart from Danny and his family. And despite everything, she still loved him, even though she knew he was no good for her. So when his arm went around her waist, instead of pushing him away she let him hold her – but mainly because it seemed to make him feel better. Because lying in his arms right then, Cara, exhausted and troubled, had never felt more alone.
Chapter Forty-four
As soon as Cara heard about the bank robbery on Baker Street, she got a bad feeling. It was on the BBC’s early-evening news. The armed robbers had hit the bank at midday, just as the security shift swapped over for lunch. One guard had been shot, and was critical in hospital. The robbers had got away with a quarter of a million pounds. There were four suspects altogether: three inside the bank, while another drove the getaway vehicle.
Cara’s thoughts immediately turned to Danny. It was a month since the aborted lunch at Annie’s, and he had been twitchy and secretive since then. He had gone out at nine that morning and still wasn’t back. She had no idea where he was. Not that there was anything unusual about that. But he’d been wrapped up in something lately, and she’d had a feeling it was something big. At first, she’d thought he’d taken up with another woman. Then, once she’d got over her initial paranoia, she’d realised the signs were all wrong. This was a new, focused Danny. There was more going on here than chasing skirt.
She slept fitfully that night, keeping half an ear out for the sound of the front door. He still wasn’t back the next morning, so she had no choice but to get on with her day as usual.
The front door was open when she got back from the shops, and she could hear voices coming from inside. Cara dropped her bags in the hallway and rushed through to see what was going on. There were half a dozen uniformed policemen going through the flat. The search looked thorough. Drawers had been opened, the contents strewn everywhere, her underwear all over the floor.
She saw them looking her up and down, knowing all they saw was a dolly bird, content to live off her man’s earnings. She felt a flash of shame.
The police had even less clue than she did about Danny’s whereabouts. But Cara knew one person who would definitely know where he was: his mother.
‘He’s gone, love.’
Cara looked blank for a moment. And then she realised what Annie was telling her. Danny had left, not for a day or a week, but indefinitely. And he’d left without her.
‘Gone?’ she repeated. ‘Where?’
Annie wouldn’t meet her gaze. ‘I don’t know.’
Cara didn’t believe her for a second. ‘Ireland?’ she demanded. ‘Spain?’
But Annie wasn’t saying. ‘Really, sweetheart, he didn’t even tell me this time.’
Cara studied her through narrowed eyes. She had a feeling Annie knew more than she was letting on, but however much affection she had for Cara, it didn’t even begin to compare to the love she had for her only son. The police hadn’t succeeded in getting her to give Danny up, and Cara knew she wouldn’t have any more success.
The security guard who had been shot during the raid had died in hospital. Annie refused to believe that her son could have killed a man, but Cara wasn’t so sure. She thought of the security guard’s family, his widow and three children, and hoped that she was wrong. But whatever the truth, she couldn’t get away from the stark fact that Danny had abandoned her. Not that she could blame Annie, of course. His mother had warned her that this was going to happen. Cara just hadn’t wanted to listen. She’d been too busy enjoying the easy life.
‘So what am I supposed to do now?’ Cara asked. She couldn’t go back to the flat. She had no job, no roof over her head. Danny had cleaned them out of every bit of money. And anything he hadn’t taken, the police would seize.
Annie went over to the kitchen drawer and took out an envelope. ‘He left this for you.’
Cara took the envelope from her. She’d half-hoped it was going to contain a letter, but she saw it was stuffed full of ten-pound notes. She looked down at the money for a moment, and then slid the envelope across to Annie.
‘I can’t take this,’ she said quietly.
‘Too good for it now, are you?’ Annie sneered.
Cara knew what the older woman meant. For months, she hadn’t even thought about where the money she lived off had come from – she hadn’t cared. Why develop a conscience now? But it was the thought of that security guard, and his poor family: she couldn’t take money earned from that.
She got to her feet. ‘I should go.’
Annie stood with her. ‘Ah, sweetheart, I could cut my tongue out for what I just said. You know I didn’t mean it.’ She was suddenly contrite. ‘I’m just upset at Danny going like that. Stay here, don’t mind me. You know there’s always a bed for you.’
‘Thanks, but I’ll be fine.’ Cara had a few quid in her pockets, and friends who would hopefully let
her stay on their sofa for a night or two. Annie might regret what she’d said, but her words had changed everything between them, and there was no going back. It was probably a good thing, too. Cara sensed that if she stayed now, she’d end up waiting around for Danny for ever, pining after someone who had made it clear that she wasn’t a big enough part of his life for him to bother including her in something as momentous as leaving the country.
Annie looked like she wanted to object, but thought better of it. ‘No hard feelings, though?’ she said instead.
Cara smiled gently at her. ‘How could there be?’ And she meant it. Whatever happened now, Annie had been the closest to a mother that she’d ever got.
The two women embraced, holding each other for a long time before Cara finally pulled away. Annie saw her to the door.
‘Come and see me some time,’ the older woman said as she left.
‘Course I will.’
Both of them knew the visit was unlikely to happen. But it seemed kinder to preserve the illusion that there was still something left between them.
Danny’s leaving broke Cara. They’d been living together, like husband and wife, for over two years, and it just showed how little that had meant to him – how little she’d meant to him. And as if abandoning her wasn’t bad enough, worse still, when he left he took all her stability with him. He’d robbed her of her family, of Annie, of every piece of security that she’d known over the past five years since she had turned up on the Connollys’ doorstep.
During those first few days, Cara found it hard just to get out of bed in the mornings. It was as though Danny had died. She felt numb; she had no interest in anything. She couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. It was only necessity that kept her going: the need to find a job and a place to live. She couldn’t go back to their flat, as the police had sealed it off. None of their mutual friends offered a place to crash. Danny had pulled off the bank job behind Finnbar’s back, and the gang leader wasn’t about to forgive that in a hurry. No one wanted to be associated with Danny or anyone close to him now.