by Martina Cole
Lana sighed in annoyance. ‘I was just saying that people are talking about Patrick Costello’s death. No one thinks it was really a mugging.’
Josephine looked at her mother, and felt the urge to slap her face. She knew what she was insinuating, and this wasn’t the first time she had tried to bring this conversation up. Josephine stood suddenly. They were, as always, in her kitchen. She had made them both a lovely lunch, and she had tried to pretend that she was enjoying it. But she wasn’t. Her mother had been a pain in her arse for a long time now. Well, she was fed up. She couldn’t allow her mother to get away with this, not again. ‘Just what are you trying to say, Mum?’
Lana could see the bristling anger that her words had caused. It just added fuel to her belief that Michael Flynn had been behind Patrick Costello’s death. Everyone thought that, except this daughter of hers.
‘I’m not trying to say anything, love. I am just telling you what people are whispering.’
Josephine gave a deep low chuckle as if she was really tickled about something. ‘Do you know something, Mum? I couldn’t give a flying fuck about what “people” are saying. What I do know is my Michael had better not hear it. He wouldn’t like to think that “people” are accusing him of murder, because that is what you’re trying to say, isn’t it? At least that’s what you seem to be insinuating anyway.’
It finally dawned on Lana that her daughter would stand by her husband no matter what, even knowing what her husband was capable of. It didn’t bother her at all. ‘I never said anything of the kind.’
Josephine flapped her hands in front of her mother’s face. ‘Oh, Mum, will you stop it! It’s all you go on about. Now, I am telling you for the last time, any more of this and I will aim you out the door. I mean it.’
Lana knew that her daughter was more than capable of doing just that. ‘I wouldn’t hurt you for the world, Josephine.’
Josephine looked at Lana, so upset at her mother’s words that she was nearly in tears. ‘But you do hurt me, Mum, you know you do. Every time that you try to say something bad about Michael, you hurt me. I can’t do this any more, Mum. It has to stop. What you don’t seem to understand is that I don’t care what he might have done. I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks. I love him, and he loves me. Nothing else matters.’
Lana was heart-sorry to see her only child so distressed. If only she would see Michael as he truly was. But that wasn’t ever going to happen, she knew that now. Even if Josephine did know the whole truth about her husband, she wouldn’t care – she had just admitted that.
‘I’m sorry, love. I won’t ever say another word, I swear. I just worry about you.’
Josephine sat back down, the fight was gone from her. ‘Well, don’t. Me and Michael are fine. He takes good care of me, Mum. If you bothered to take any notice you would see that for yourself.’
Lana sighed. ‘I can see that, Josephine. I know he loves you. I know he provides for you. But I’m your mum, it’s my job to worry about you. If you had a child of your own you’d understand what I’m saying.’
It was the final insult, and Josephine hated her mother for bringing that up, using motherhood to gain an advantage over her. Well, she had a baby inside her now. But not for anything would she share that with her mother. Instead she walked out of the kitchen leaving her mother sitting there, and up the stairs to her bedroom where she felt no one could hurt her.
Chapter Forty-Six
‘This is completely unbelievable. Do you know how much money this is potentially worth, Michael?’
Michael Flynn was smiling. ‘’Course I do, Jeffrey. More money than you could shake a fucking stick at. But it’s dangerous. It’ll mean a serious fucking lump if it ever comes to it.’
Jeffrey Palmer laughed. ‘I’d already worked that one out. But it’s got all the hallmarks of a classic earn. Right up my street.’
Jeffrey Palmer was in good shape for his forty-five years. He had classic good looks too. Men liked him – he was a man’s man – and women loved him, which he used to his advantage at every opportunity. He had a good reputation, and he had worked hard for it. He had been a grafter all his life, but he had gone as far as he could. He had accepted that – he’d basically had no choice. Patrick Costello had taken against him, and he had never been able to find out why, but the man had never offered him as much as a crumb from his table. On the rare occasions they had been in the same place, Patrick had barely acknowledged him. Jeffrey didn’t know why – what he did know was that it certainly wasn’t because of anything he had done. He had racked his brain for a reason why the man treated him like a leper, but he could not come up with a thing. He had always given Patrick Costello the respect he commanded, never once said a word about him that could be misconstrued in any way. If Costello had wanted a straightener with him, it had to come from Costello himself. He had more sense than to go looking for trouble. It had rankled though; he had felt slighted, humiliated. But he had eventually accepted it was just one of those things. Patrick Costello was well known for his ability to take against a body overnight. He was a dangerous fuck, and Jeffrey Palmer watched his back; Patrick Costello had not been averse to making people he didn’t like disappear if the fancy took him. He was known to get others to do his dirty work – not just as proof of loyalty to him but, more importantly, to make sure the person in question was capable of doing whatever he might ask of them. His death had been tragic for many people, but there were many more who could suddenly breathe a lot easier.
This offer from Michael Flynn was not only going to ratchet him up a notch, it was also going to bring him into the world of serious villainy, and all that entailed.
Michael Flynn was watching Jeffrey closely. He was pleased to be bringing him onboard. Patrick had always taken against the man and Michael knew why. He had taken a real dislike to him for no reason other than he had a thick head of hair, and three strong sons. He was also one of the few men that Patrick Costello couldn’t intimidate. Michael knew that the man was wondering why he was being given such an in suddenly. Why he, Michael Flynn, had not respected Patrick Costello’s wishes, and kept him outside in honour of the man everyone knew treated him like a son.
‘You’re very quiet, Jeff.’
Jeffrey Palmer shrugged, but he didn’t answer him. He was waiting to hear what the score was, and that was something Michael could understand. Patrick had always told him to let other people talk to find out what you really wanted to know.
Michael spoke. ‘I know you’re wondering why I’ve offered you this opportunity, especially as Patrick wasn’t exactly your biggest fan. But, for all that, he did admire you. He admired that you never challenged him, or bad-mouthed him. He was a funny fucker. He didn’t like you, but he’s gone now, and I think you are perfect for what I want.’
Jeffrey Palmer looked around him. He was in Michael Flynn’s home, in his private office, and he was impressed at the way the man lived. It wasn’t just about having money. Michael lived like a real businessman and his home reflected that. It wasn’t the usual mix of expensive shite and ostentatious furniture. Michael’s home was like his own – on a larger scale, of course. Like Michael Flynn, Jeffrey had married a decent girl, with a bit of savvy, and the intelligence to grow into the money that was coming in, who read the right magazines, and educated herself about how the other half lived. It was only a shame that Michael and his wife had not been blessed with a child to complete their family.
Jeffrey looked at Michael, and said seriously, ‘I never knew why Patrick treated me like he did. I resented him for it, but I also knew there was nothing I could do to change it. The fault, whatever that might have been, wasn’t on my side. But I can tell you now, Michael, you won’t regret bringing me onboard. This is perfect for me, mate. I have already dipped me toe in, so to speak, and I am aware of the main players we will have to deal with. But I assume that’s why you want me.’
It was what Michael wanted to hear. ‘I know you’re up to speed on the pe
ople concerned, but you must remember that this time you will be dealing with them on my behalf. That means you will be the main man – none of them can shit without your say-so now, and they will accept that. They need me to smooth their paths for them, and I will do that as always, but remember, like you, they are still working for me. You will be required to remind them of that, yet oversee everything personally. This will also give you not just added status, but more money than you can imagine. It’s already up and running, Jeffrey, all I want from you is to take it over, and then report to me. I’d advise you to put someone in place to oversee your usual earns. This lot is going to take up all your time, believe me.’
Jeffrey Palmer was impressed, but not really shocked; he had expected nothing less. He knew that Michael Flynn would insist on his total dedication to the cause he had offered him, and he was more than willing to do that. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. ‘That is a given, Michael. When do you want me to start?’
Michael laughed loudly, with genuine humour; he had known from day one that Jeffrey Palmer would bite his hand off for this opportunity. Getting up, he poured them both large whiskies and, when they were once more settled, he said seriously, ‘I will walk you through it, from start to finish, do the introductions to the hierarchy – that’s who you will be dealing with from now on. I know you have already tapped into them for your own gain, and that is a big plus as far as I am concerned. Just keep in mind that you are there for me in the future.’
It was a warning.
Jeffrey Palmer smiled. He had good teeth – teeth that he had inherited from his mother, and his sons had been lucky enough to inherit them too. His mother was Irish, strong as an ox, and he could see himself in her. His father, on the other hand, had never been more than a distant memory. He had been murdered when Jeffrey was two years old, shot to death over a game of poker. It wasn’t a death worth commemorating; the man had been a piece of shit. Jeffrey had always sworn that his life would amount to something, that he would not be the kind of man his father was – an East-End bullyboy, whose only aim in life was to drink, gamble and engage in small-time villainy to achieve those ends. Jeffrey had made something of himself, lived down his father’s name, and his father’s memory. Now, thanks to Michael Flynn, he would be able to reach his full potential.
‘Listen, Michael, I will do whatever is needed. You know that. I have to ask, though, how much product are we dealing with?’
‘A lot more than anyone realises, Jeff. We are shifting about ninety keys a week, and that’s just the cocaine. It’s big business. We supply everyone who’s anyone. Nothing moves without my express say-so.’
Jeffrey Palmer was suitably impressed. He was also working out his cut of the take. ‘I understand. It’s a big responsibility.’
Michael nodded his agreement, before saying sarcastically, ‘I know.’
Michael finished his drink, enjoying the burn as the whisky went down. He was pleased with Jeffrey Palmer. He would do a good job but, more than that, everyone would know that if Patrick Costello was still in the mix, Jeffrey Palmer wouldn’t have got a look in. It was Michael’s way of letting everyone know that he was his own man. He would make any changes he thought necessary, and on his own terms. He had to make sure the people around him were all his men. Patrick Costello had taught him the importance of loyalty, and how giving certain people not just your trust, but also the chance to earn from that trust, was worth more than anything. He knew the truth of that first hand, and now he was going to use that knowledge to his advantage. In his own way, he had loved Patrick Costello; he had been like a father to him. But, like Patrick, he knew that, where business was concerned, emotions had no place. He had the capacity to overlook such trifles; he had understood that when Patrick had insisted he carry out murder for him. He knew now that if he had failed, he would still be no more than a drone, a nobody, and that was something he would always thank Patrick Costello for. He had educated him on the finer points of being a player in the Life. Without him, Michael would be nothing.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Josephine was busy; she had cleaned the house from top to bottom, and now she felt she could face the task of clearing out her overfull wardrobes. She was piling clothes up on the floor, trying to decide which to take to the charity shop, but she was finding it hard, she needed all of them. She was happy, still pregnant, feeling good, and that was what she was focusing on. Michael was so wrapped up in his new role, he didn’t have time to think about her. That suited her, she was quite happy enjoying this by herself. This time it was going to be different, she felt that in every way. She felt stronger, more in control of everything this time. It was scary and exhilarating keeping such an enormous secret to herself.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored wardrobes. She could see the swelling under her clothes and she wanted to cry with happiness. She had to do it this time if it killed her. Unlike with the other pregnancies, she felt full of energy, without the familiar dragging feeling inside her belly, or the constant tiredness. She woke up feeling rejuvenated, ready for each new day. She had gradually lost contact with all her old school friends – they had all had babies, and she had not been able to stand it in the end. She still saw them socially, but that was about it. She had hated herself for the jealousy she had felt every time she had seen them hold the babies they had produced, hated herself for not being happy for them, for the bitterness she felt. It was nature, a natural thing that was expected of any woman, and yet she had been denied it over and over again. But not this time.
She heard Michael bounding up the stairs; as always he had come in search of her. It was so touching. She felt a rush of love wash over her. He stood in the bedroom doorway, and she marvelled at the sight of him. He was such a good-looking man, and he still had the power to excite her, make her want him.
‘You having a clear out, then?’
She smiled at him, happy to see him. ‘Not before time, Michael. I’m starting on your wardrobes next.’
He grinned. ‘Go for it. I’m enjoying seeing you so lively.’ He was quiet for a few moments before saying softly, ‘It suits you.’
Josephine laughed. ‘What suits me?’
He was beside her now, and pulling her into his arms. She loved the feel of him, he made her feel so safe and secure.
He kissed her forehead gently, before saying, ‘Being pregnant, Josephine. It suits you, darling. But when were you going to tell me?’
She pulled away slightly to look into his eyes, and she could see the sorrow there, mixed with bewilderment and happiness. ‘How long have you known, Michael?’
He hugged her to him closely. ‘A while, Josephine. I’ve been waiting for you to tell me yourself.’
She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. He knew, and now she felt a fool – of course he would have known. He wasn’t stupid. But she had really believed she had kept it secret, and that she had done so for his benefit, not hers.
‘Oh, Michael, I didn’t tell anyone, not a soul – no one knows. I thought if it all went wrong, I wouldn’t have to live with the feelings of inadequacy. I wouldn’t have to listen to the well-meaning clichés. If no one knew I could deal with it all myself.’
Michael felt the tears come into his eyes at her generosity of spirit. She wanted to save him hurt, and that was such a selfless act on her part. ‘You silly bitch! I sussed a while ago. I wish you would listen to me, Josephine. If we have a baby I will be made up, but for you more than for me. As long as I have you I don’t need anyone else. I swear that on my immortal soul.’ He hugged her even tighter, raining kisses all over her face.
Josephine knew he was speaking the truth, but it still didn’t make her feel any better. ‘I’m so sorry, Michael, I just wanted to do this by myself. I would have told you eventually. I’m amazed that you noticed, to be honest.’
Michael was offended. ‘Of course I did, Josephine! You’re my world, for fuck’s sake.’
Josephine looked into the handsome face s
he knew so well. She could see his anger, mingled with his despair, and she hated herself for causing it. He had only ever loved her, given her his love and his protection no matter what. ‘Can you do me one favour, Michael? Keep this between us, please. I don’t want anyone to know about it. If I lose it, I don’t want it to be common knowledge. I couldn’t go through that again.’
Michael sighed heavily. ‘’Course, darling. Whatever you want to do is fine by me.’
‘Thanks, Michael. It’s just I can’t pretend any more. Your mum is always making remarks about how we should have a family by now, and my mum acts like miscarriages happen to everyone. It’s too raw for me. Every time it goes wrong I feel such a fucking failure. I feel so bereft. If I do lose this baby, Michael, I want it to be a private grief this time. I want it to be our sorrow, no one else’s.’
Michael could hear the longing in his wife’s voice, the need for a child, and the fear that once more she would be denied that, because her body would let her down as it always had. He would gladly hand over every penny he had if it would give her a child of her own, and the peace it would bring to her.
‘I promise you, Josephine, I won’t say a word.’
She nestled into his arms, and he felt the overwhelming love for her that had never changed. He loved her unconditionally. ‘How are you feeling, though? Do you feel all right in yourself?’
She nodded and, pulling away from him again, she looked up into his face. ‘That’s just it, Michael, I feel great. I feel better than I ever have before. This time it feels so right. I can’t explain it. If it’s going to happen for us, I think it will be this time.’
‘Oh, my darling, I hope you’re right.’
As he pulled her into his body once more, he was praying that she was right this time. But whatever happened, he knew he had no choice; he had to look after her as best he could.