He was too absorbed in what was going on in his mind.
Once Donna moved, she was out of his orbit and he couldn’t afford that at this time. While he knew where she was he could keep an eye on her. Did Georgio have any idea of doing a deal to get out earlier? Was he going to sell Harry down the river? It was all very worrying. He had a few big deals coming off and a scandal could ruin him. But more than that, if Georgio opened his mouth about the software industry they were going to create, he would be behind bars, disgraced and doing a long prison sentence into the bargain. His bowels were growing looser by the second.
‘Harry? Do you need me any more or can I go for lunch?’
Sally’s sweet features were a blur to Harry who felt as if he had been punched none too gently in his nether regions.
‘Oh, it’s you. Look - piss off girl and get your lunch, for Christ’s sake.’
Sally’s eyes widened, and her face took on the hurt expression of a dog that’s just been beaten. Pink and tearful, she raced from the room.
Harry put his head into his hands. He’d have to apologise to her now, before she mouthed his words all over the Town Hall. Sod Peter Downs, and sod Georgio bloody Brunos!
Just when everything was going so well, this had to happen. Well, he hoped Donna was moving to be nearer the prison, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. It was if she was moving away before the bomb was dropped that was worrying him.
He made a mental note to get Bunty to go round there, all sweetness and light, and try to patch up their rather curtailed friendship. He heard his outer door slam and bit on his thumbnail. Sally was more upset than he’d realised.
Picking up the phone, he prepared himself for Bunty’s strident voice and guaranteed rage when he told her what he wanted her to do. In a lot of respects he had envied Georgio his meek little wife; now he was positively green.
Bunty was not a woman you told to do things, not if you knew what was good for you.
Taking a deep breath, he dialled his home number.
Chapter Twenty
Bunty Robertson was fit to be tied. She stood in the centre of her dining room and scowled at her husband as he tried to pacify her.
‘Bunty, darling.’ His eyes were beseeching her.
‘Shut your stupid fat mouth, Harry. I will not, I repeat, will not go round to that bitch’s house for love nor money. Get it? Or do you want me to tattoo it on your forehead?’
Harry felt his heart sinking below his navel.
‘Bunty, listen to me, for God’s sake. You have to do this. If Georgio opened his mouth we would all be in it up to our necks. You and your father included.’
Bunty’s long horsy face was fixed in a sneer. She made an unladylike snorting noise through large nostrils.
‘Forgive me if I seem a bit dense, Harry darling, but if Georgio was going to open his mouth I would have thought he’d have done so by now. What on earth would it gain him to tell all now? He’s already doing eighteen years. I would have thought even you could have grasped something that simple.’
His wife’s high-pitched voice finally broke through his fear of her and Harry Robertson shouted for the first time ever at his long skinny wife.
‘He’s trying to get a fucking appeal going, you stupid cunt. If he doesn’t, he could do a deal. Did that ever occur to you, or your father for that matter? Did it not come into your father’s reasoning about all this then? That Georgio might ask for leniency for opening his trap about a scandal that would leave us both waist-high in shit, and about a business that would be the talk of everyone in the country - a disgusting industry that you were all for. Even I baulked at it at first. Now I wish I had listened to myself for once instead of you and that ponce of a father of yours. Major Browning, my arse! The nearest he ever got to the Army was the fucking glasshouse for desertion. Now stop whining and get round there and pacify that bitch of a wife of Georgio’s.’
Bunty’s eyes were wide and staring. Their icy blue held a glint of steel as she tried to cut her husband in half with their glare.
‘How dare you! How dare you talk about my father like that? The Major is a respected man . . .’
Harry groaned out loud and cut his wife off. His voice low now, he said sadly, ‘Why do you insist on this charade, Bunty? I am Harry - your husband, remember? I met you years ago when you were living in Huddersfield and Daddy was banged up in Strangeways for fraudulent deception. Your father is a conman, love - a good one I admit, but a conman all the same. You never went to private school, you never owned a pony, and you never lived in Singapore. So please stop pretending with me, eh? Just listen for once. Get in your car, drive over to Donna Brunos’s house and give her a load of old fanny. Make sure she knows we’re on her husband’s side. Tell her we waited until it had all died down before we made our move. She’ll understand that much, she’s more intelligent than you ever gave her credit for. Find out what the score is, and what’s happening with Georgio. Do this, Bunty, because all our futures are in Georgio’s hands at the moment. Mine, yours and the Major’s.’
Bunty listened to the tone of her husband’s voice, saw the desperation in his eyes, and sensed his animosity towards her father. She decided it was better to retreat on this occasion. Harry could be henpecked, he could be manipulated, he could be utterly stupid. But once he laid down the law, Bunty was inclined to listen, mainly because if he pushed the issue, he was generally in the right. Harry had one thing in common with his wife: both were marvellous at saving their own arses.
Smiling evilly Bunty spat out: ‘All right, Harry, if you insist. But I warn you now - one snide remark from her and that’s that. Let them do their worst. I’ll not be held over a barrel by that skinny bitch or her thug of a husband.’
Harry gave a great sigh of relief.
Leave it to the women. He was a great believer in passing the buck. Whatever happened now was down to Bunty, and for all her hard talk and crassness, she knew better than to push Donna Brunos too far. Bunty could grovel for England when the fancy took her. He smiled to himself. He was half-sorry he would miss the performance.
Harry had panicked the night of Georgio’s arrest and had completely blanked out the couple from his life. Feigning surprise, then pretending he had had his suspicions all along about Georgio, he had agreed with the opinion of whoever he was talking to. Deep inside, he had had to convince himself that Georgio opening his mouth about the deals in Sri Lanka and Bangkok would only land him in more trouble. The idea that he might eventually use them as a way to gain a lighter sentence had occasionally filtered into his mind in the dead of night, just after Georgio had been given eighteen years. Knowing that he himself would have sold anyone down the river in those circumstances had made him aware of the precarious position he was in.
However, knowing that Donna was nearby had given Harry a false sense of security. While he could still pass Georgio’s house, see the familiar car in the drive, he had convinced himself that Georgio was still holding out for them all. Now Donna was leaving, Harry was worried. Once she was gone, he had no way of finding out anything, until the knock came on his front door as it had on Georgio’s. He felt himself break out in a sweat just thinking about it. Harry Robertson, planning officer, pillar of the community, actually being arrested. It didn’t bear thinking about.
Especially when the reason for the arrest would be enough not only to shock his contemporaries, but also disgust them.
Dolly was out shopping, and Donna was enjoying a coffee and a cigarette in her conservatory. She looked out over the swimming pool and across the perfect lawns to the tennis court. She had planted the lavender bushes herself, also the honeysuckle; on a summer evening the scent was overwhelming. When they had moved into the house the grounds had been a great muddy wilderness. Donna had planned her garden with care, expecting to stay there until she died. She had decided on every plant, every ornament, every blade of grass. She had watched over it, nurtured it, and engaged a gardener who loved the grounds almost as much as she
did. The apple trees, pears and the fig tree, had all been lovingly tended. The rose bower was her idea, as was the winding pathway that led around the side of the house to the herb garden. The large conifers provided a natural screen, and the huge weeping willow had been left. She had worked around them, believing that a tree should never be cut down.
She knew she would miss it all terribly. Knew that it would be a wrench. But she also knew she would do it because of Georgio. Anything was worth losing if it brought Georgio back to her. The estate agent was coming at around four-thirty in the afternoon, and Donna still hadn’t plucked up the courage to tell Dolly she was selling up. She was wondering if she should actually tell her everything, felt she should because Dolly was so loyal, but didn’t know whether she could involve the older woman in something that was not only illegal but also dangerous.
Her eyes strayed to the photograph on her lap. It was of Georgio. It had been taken a few weeks before his arrest and it showed him smiling heartily, his perfect white teeth and dark good looks set off to their best advantage. Just looking at it gave Donna a thrill. He was gut-wrenchingly handsome. Always had been. Then the deep depression that accompanied the sexual urge overwhelmed her once more. To have him back, sitting opposite her or slipping into bed beside her, was not just a want, it was a pure physical need.
She stared over the garden once more, her earlier feelings of sorrow at having to leave it gone now. She was left only with her need for the man she had married. She would have him on his terms, anywhere he wanted to be. Without Georgio this place was just a house. With him she would once more have a home.
The loud ring of the doorbell broke her reverie and she strolled through the house, expecting to see Dolly on the doorstep. She was shocked to see instead the familiar outline of Bunty Robertson. Opening the door, she stared into the woman’s face.
‘What can I do for you?’
Bunty smiled brightly. ‘How are you, Donna dear? I thought I’d pop in and say hello.’ She clearly expected to be invited into the house.
For the first time ever, Donna Brunos looked at Bunty Robertson and didn’t feel small, didn’t feel intimidated by her nasal tones, upper-class accent and designer clothes. Instead she felt as if she was the one in control.
‘Hello then. Now, if you don’t mind, Bunty, I’m quite busy.’ She watched with satisfaction as Bunty’s face dropped into its usual sour lines.
‘I say, Donna, that’s no way to treat a friend.’
Donna grinned. ‘Isn’t it? Maybe you would prefer it if I cut you dead in the village? Or didn’t return your calls? That’s what you do, isn’t it? To your friends.’ Donna frowned as if in earnest consideration and she was delighted to see Bunty’s face redden.
‘Come on, Donna, surely you must have expected that at first? Harry, after all . . .’
Donna finished her sentence for her. ‘A councillor and local dignitary. I know, Bunty. My husband helped him get there, remember? Now I think about it, my husband did a lot for both of you at one time, and not even a phone call or a note from you to tell him you believed in him. In his innocence. Go away, Bunty. We have nothing to say to one another.’
Donna went to shut the door, but Bunty thrust her foot into the doorway.
‘Please, Donna, let’s not part like this!’
‘Take your foot out, Bunty, or I’ll slam the door on it. Shall I tell you something? I never liked you, ever. I put up with you and your drunken overbearing husband because of Georgio. Now he’s away I don’t have to listen to your phoney accent, or endure your husband’s groping hands. In fact, that was the only good thing that came out of all my troubles. So remove your foot now, get in your car, and as my housekeeper would say, piss off!’
Bunty removed her foot slowly.
‘I understand the house is up for sale. I came here to offer the hand of friendship, to see if we could help in case you were having financial problems. I never expected to be insulted for my trouble.’
Donna laughed now, a low, bitchy laugh.
‘Well, news certainly travels fast around here, doesn’t it? As for offering the hand of friendship . . . if I was stuck on a sinking ship I wouldn’t share a lifeboat with you, Bunty. If I needed a pound to keep from starving, I would rather starve than take anything from you. But all that aside, I have taken over all Georgio’s businesses and am doing very well with them, thank you very much. Tell your husband that from me. I’m doing very well, and have no need of freeloaders, OK? Now, for the last time, get off my property.’
Bunty’s face was a picture of amazement and stunned disbelief. ‘You’ve taken over all his businesses? All of them?’
Donna smiled. ‘That’s right. When and if I ever need you, I’ll let you know. Now, I’ll say goodbye for the last time.’
Shutting the door, Donna walked back to the conservatory with a soaring heart. It had done her the world of good seeing Bunty Robertson on her doorstep. Telling her what she thought of her, and finally getting the upper hand.
Looking once more at the photo of her husband, she whispered, ‘You’d have been proud of me, Georgio. I’m finally growing up.’
‘I hate Thursdays. I hate every day.’ For once Sadie’s voice was depressed.
Georgio smiled at her. ‘Cheer up, Sade, it could be worse.’
Sadie smiled back infectiously. ‘Could it? Oh yes, I know. The four-minute warning could go. Fat chance we’d have in here, all the screws running to get out and locking us all in on their way!’
‘That’s better. You always have a crack, no matter what’s wrong in here.’
‘That’s my trouble,’ Sadie told him. ‘I always look for the good things in life, and believe me when I say there ain’t been that many to really get excited about.’ Sadie’s deep brown eyes were sad once more. ‘I mean, look at me. I’m not even thirty yet, but here I am doing time for murder. I’m as queer as a two-bob clock, I prefer dressing as a woman - I feel like a woman, that’s been my trouble all my bleeding life - but all that aside, I now have one really big problem.’
Georgio stared at the character in front of him, sorry for the sad eyes and drooping shoulders.
‘Lewis came on to me in the showers, Georgio. What the hell do I do?’
Georgio’s eyes widened. Lewis coming on to Sadie? Lewis who kept as far away from the TVs as possible? Lewis who saw his homosexuality as a macho thing, an image, the hard man, the hard queer. You could almost hear Lewis’s voice saying: ‘Come on then, I dare you to make a joke about queers,’ as he walked into a room. Lewis coming on to Sadie? It was unbelievable.
‘Christ, Sade. Are you sure?’
Sadie’s eyes flashed in temper. ‘I’m a lot of things, Georgio, but stupid isn’t one of them. He felt me up all right and asked me if I would be so kind as to have lunch with him. Poor Timmy. He’ll be gutted. He really cares about me, you know.’
‘So you’re going to do it?’
Sadie nodded almost imperceptibly. ‘I don’t have much choice really, do I?’
Before Georgio could answer a screw walked into the recreation room.
‘Visitor! Brunos, get your arse in gear.’
‘I’ll speak to you later, Sadie.’
She smiled up at him. ‘Hope it’s your wife.’
‘Not today. I’ve other fish to fry today.’ Giving Sadie a quick wink, he walked from the room.
Donna strode through the electric doors into Parkhurst prison. As she waited for the inner doors to open she fished out her Visiting Order from her handbag. Sensing eyes on her, she turned around to see a tall blonde girl staring intently at her. Donna smiled, but the girl turned away abruptly. Just then, a small dark-haired boy of about eighteen months toppled over, and forgetting the girl’s strange look, Donna rushed to help him up. He was bawling his head off. As Donna reached him, the tall blonde picked him up.
‘He fell really hard. I hope he’s OK?’
The girl’s delicate features and long highlighted hair belied her rough voice.
> ‘He’s always falling over. He’ll survive.’
Donna looked at her closely.
‘Do I know you? Only I saw you staring at me earlier.’
The girl smiled naturally. ‘I was staring at your suit, as it goes. It’s very nice.’
Donna relaxed. ‘I’ve had it for ages to be honest, but it wears well on long journeys. Is this your son? He’s really handsome.’
‘No. I’m here with me sister, looking after him while she goes in for a visit. The doors are opening. You’d better get a move on or you’ll be ages getting in line.’
Donna ruffled the child’s hair gently. ‘Thanks. He’s a darling - your sister is very lucky,’ she said.
The child was snuggling into his auntie’s arms and crying softly.
Donna watched her walk out of the prison, and shoved her way through with the rest of the visitors to be searched, identified, and taken through to the visiting room. The usual overpowering smell of cheap perfume and children’s sweets accompanied her. Nodding here and there at familiar faces she went through all the procedures, and finally, after depositing her handbag in the locker, she walked into the visiting room, the constant closing of doors behind her giving her a small insight into how Georgio must feel living with it constantly.
As she entered the visiting room, she was astounded to see Georgio already there, apparently waiting for her. His face was a mask of surprise and pleasant shock.
She rushed towards him, feeling the familiar rush of longing as she looked into his face.
‘I bet you weren’t expecting me, were you? I talked Paddy out of his VO. It was a good idea to put my name on everyone’s. I told you it would be, didn’t I? Then if they can’t make it, or I can con it from them, we can see more of one another.’
Georgio was staring at her as if he had never seen her before.
‘Well, aren’t you going to kiss me?’
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard on the mouth.
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