Alan laughed with her.
‘There’s a story there with Jonnie H. and Annie. When he was in the Smoke, he was a sod for whoring. He patronised Shepherd’s Market and Kings Cross. It was a standing joke with everyone. He always went for the rough trade. Then, all of a sudden, Jonnie H. was getting married. We were all amazed. I done the food for his wedding, Georgio will tell you . . .’
Donna turned in the seat. ‘You mean, he was there? At their wedding?’
Alan swallowed heavily. Taking a deep breath, he said, ‘Nah, of course not. I mean it was the talk of the town, like. Nothing more.’ He saw Donna visibly relax.
‘Anyway to get back to me story. It turned out that Annie, she was only about seventeen then, was a tom from the Market itself. He picked her up one night in his motor and that was that. He took her away from it all. She was a right looker and all. I mean, she looks all right now and she’s ready to drop her chavvy any day. It caused a sensation at the time, but as Georgio said to me once - in reality, Jonnie done himself a favour. He got what he wanted and he’s happy. He paid the toms to do what he wanted. Now he has one on tap, if you like.’
Alan roared at his own humour.
Donna stared at him stonily. ‘They seem very happy to me.’
Alan waved a hand at her. ‘They are happy - happiest couple I’ve ever seen. He worships her. But myself, I couldn’t marry a tom. I know it sounds nasty, like, but I just couldn’t do it.’
He hung a left off Argyle Street and made his way to The Waterloo public house. Pulling up outside, he turned the engine off and faced her.
‘Have I said something wrong?’
Donna shook her head. ‘Annie seems to me to be very much the stronger of the partnership.’
‘Oh, she is,’ he agreed. ‘Before they married he’d do a blag, piss all his money up the wall and be looking round for work again. He also sold himself short. It’s Annie what got him into this business. She’s his negotiator, and she looks after the dosh. That flat in Harmony Row is just a front. Eventually him and her are going to get right out of it, buy a place for cash then carry on from there. She’s shrewd, old Annie. She knew what Jonnie H. could offer her and she took it. Like most brasses she’s loyal to him. They’re always loyal, brasses. Funny that. They’re loyal to their pimps, their boyfriends and their husbands. Never ceases to amaze me.’
He jumped from the car and held Donna’s door open for her.
‘What are we doing here?’
‘This, Donna, is where we pick up the front men. I know a few faces here who can help us.’
She followed him into the stagnant warmth of The Waterloo. It was a known haunt of homosexuals and Donna breathed in perfume, aftershave and sweat as they pushed their way to the bar. The music was loud and heavy. Leather and earrings abounded.
‘Two large scotches, please. Is Nick Carvello in at all?’ The barman nodded and jerked his head at the corner of the room. Alan paid for the drinks and they squeezed through towards Nick Carvello and his friend Albie Doyle.
Nick was tall, slender and very good-looking, with thick red hair tied back in a ponytail and green eyes like a cat’s. Albie was short, dumpy and dressed in overalls. Donna felt as if she had gatecrashed a Village People concert.
Nick squealed loudly. ‘Alan! Oh, what a pleasant surprise. Look what the cat’s dragged in, Albie.’ He was looking Donna over as he spoke. ‘Love the suit, dear, very Sharon Stone. Now let’s sit down and get settled.’
He walked to a table where four men were sitting chatting. He made a waving gesture with his hands and the four beat a hasty retreat.
‘Come and sit down, and let’s catch up. Sit beside me, Albie dear, but first go and get another round of drinks. And ask Phillip if he can put on some Stylistics. This shit is giving me a headache.’
He turned to Donna and said conspiratorially, ‘Ever since that shit “Relax” came out, they think we all gyrate to rubbish like that. Sickening, isn’t it?’
Donna smiled, feeling very out of place. ‘You’re not Scottish?’ she said tentatively.
Nick screamed with laughter. ‘Essex born and bred, dear, that’s me. Typical Essex Man if people only knew it. The things I could tell you about that county would make your hair curl up and fall out! Mind you, I was a Londoner for a long time. Ever heard of the London Boys? Bowie wrote a song about us once. I live up here now, doing me bit, like we all do. What’s your name, dear? I hope it’s as glamorous as you are.’
Donna looked into his perfectly made-up face and said: ‘It’s Donna, Donna Brunos.’
She saw Nick’s eyes widen. Then he looked at Alan quickly before saying sotto voce. ‘We are a lucky girl, aren’t we?’
Donna was saved from answering by Albie coming back with the round of drinks.
‘Oh Albie, you are a darling. Albie, meet Donna Brunos. Georgio was hiding her from us all for years. Pretty as a picture, isn’t she? Love the hair. Is it natural?’
Donna found his high breathless way of talking amusing, especially as he jumped from one subject to another so hastily. She realised that most of his questions weren’t to be answered but were delivered as compliments.
‘So, Alan. What’s to do, dearie?’
Alan grinned and knocked back his scotch. ‘Stop fucking camping it up. You know I hate it.’
Nick’s face was serious as he answered in a deep voice, ‘That’s why I do it, love. Got to give the punters a show, eh?’
Alan sighed. ‘I’ve got a bit of business for you and Albie. I need a boat, a straight house - and I mean straight - and some supplies.’
Nick sipped his rum and Coke and licked his lips before answering.
‘What kind of boat do you want, and where do you want it docked? If you’re travelling over the water, I’ll get you a nice fishing vessel. If you need a speedboat, I’ve got a choice of three. You tell me what you want to do and I’ll tell you if I can do it, how much it’ll rush you and whether or not I think the risk is worth it. I don’t do drug running any more. My Petey got a life for it and I don’t need the hassle, OK? Now it’s your turn, Alan, and keep it short and sweet.’
Donna was amazed at the turnaround in Nick Carvello. Now he was like any other businessman, except instead of a suit he wore a bright green Lycra bodystocking, and green eyeshadow to match. The Stylistics came on singing ‘Betcha, By Golly, Wow’ and Nick listened to Alan while swaying in time to the music.
He looked at Donna and winked in a friendly fashion.
Alan began talking. Donna was amazed at the way he didn’t take any notice of the people around him. He seemed at home with them.
‘I need a fishing boat, but one that can shift, know what I mean? I need a house to hole up in just in case we don’t make it to the boat in time. I need a good crew, trustworthy, who can keep stumm. I also want a chart for getting over to Ireland. That’s where the parcel is gonna be landing first off.’
Nick nodded. ‘This ain’t nothing to do with the Irish, is it?’ His voice was hesitant.
‘In a way. He’s half-Irish and we’re gonna spring him.’ He nodded towards Donna as he spoke.
Nick grinned. ‘I get it - old Georgio is for the off! In that case I’ll work you out a good deal, Alan. A mate’s a mate after all, and in my game you can do with as many of them as possible.’
He held up his glass in a toast and swallowed down the rest of his rum and Coke. ‘Another round, Albie dear, if you don’t mind.’
Albie smiled and went to the bar once more.
‘He’s very quiet, isn’t he?’
Nick laughed gently. ‘So would you be, love, if someone cut your tongue out.’
Donna wasn’t sure whether it was a sick joke. She looked askance at Alan who nodded his head slowly.
Nick carried on talking. ‘He was a rent boy with me years ago, before I came into my present occupation. A punter done it because he didn’t like the blow job. I’ve looked after him ever since. I found him and I kept him. I’ve got a thing about stra
ys.’ His voice was once more pure camp and Donna knew it was to hide the sadness behind his words.
Inexplicably she felt tears come into her eyes and Nick, seeing this, held her small hand in his large scarlet-nailed one. ‘Sad, love, I know. But he’s all right now. I give him a good life, dear. You’re too chicken-hearted. I’m the same. I cry at Lassie films.’
Alan watched the incongruous twosome and shook his head in defeat.
Donna was holding her own and making friends wherever they went. It could only augur well for the future and Georgio’s jump. He smiled at her, watching her beautiful face as she stared into Nick’s heavily made-up eyes.
She had passed the test, she had held her own, and Alan realised that in a lot of ways she was an asset to the operation. Everyone had always wondered about Georgio’s wife; Brunos was into so much more than Donna would ever be able to comprehend. She was an enigma to people, for she was interesting, and she looked and acted shrewd.
In fact, he told himself, if she’d been anyone else’s wife . . .
Georgio and Chopper sat in their cell and played poker. Chopper was holding all the winning cards. He took a deep swig of the prison hooch - a dangerous whisky made from potatoes and smelling suspiciously of paint-stripper - and breathed out harshly as the alcohol burned his mouth.
Georgio laughed. ‘I don’t know how you can drink that shit.’
‘Needs must when the devil drives,’ Chopper grinned.
The cell door was opened by one of the night screws, a tall heavyset man with a large handlebar moustache.
‘Lewis is out of danger and should be back on the Wing within ten days,’ he announced. ‘I’ve got a message for you, Brunos. Mr Lewis says you’re to be his eyes and ears till then.’
The door clanged shut.
‘I don’t know what Lewis is playing at,’ Georgio said.
Chopper shuffled the cards expertly. ‘Don’t you? I do. He knows your head’s in the noose so he wants a grass. He figures you already owe him and you’ll want to even the score a bit. It’s common knowledge he wants a hefty wedge from you and you ain’t saying where it is. He thinks you’ll spy for him to get in his good books - it’s as simple as that.’
Georgio stood up and stared at himself in the small mirror leaning on the windowsill. His thick black curly hair was showing grey around the sides; his deepset eyes had bags beneath them. He noticed the prison pallor was already evident.
‘Don’t worry, Brunos, you’re still good-looking.’
He ran his hands through his hair. ‘I don’t understand you, Chopper. According to Lewis we was deliberately banged up together. You were his eyes and ears in here, so to speak. He gets a caning, and you want to be number one. What’s your scam? Come out into the open and let’s clear the fucking air.’
Chopper laughed. ‘You make me die, Brunos. You was a big fish in a little pond—’
Georgio cut him off. ‘Then that just shows how much you know, don’t it? If I wasn’t banged up in here with Lewis and his silly henchmen, I’d have wasted that ponce ages ago. I’m getting sick of this place, I’m warning you. I’m sick of the smell, the setup, and the people. Don’t push me too far, Chopper. You don’t scare me and your juvenile name don’t scare me.’
‘But Lewis does, I take it?’
Georgio nodded, his face set. ‘In here he does, yes, and if you’re sensible you’ll bear that in mind. Lewis owns this nick, he has the dosh that’s needed to do it. He owns about two-thirds of the prison service in one way or another. Believe me when I tell you he could walk out of here in the morning if he really put his mind to it, but he’s shrewd enough to realise he’s too well-known to go on the trot. And he’s British through and through, like a fucking stick of Blackpool rock. He couldn’t hack living in Spain or South America. Anyway, his mother wouldn’t go and you know what he’s like about her. He’ll do his time here, with a holiday now and again in Durham or somewhere else to break the monotony, and he’ll own them nicks.
‘He went out a while ago on a fucking day trip to see his Harley Street surgeon. On the way back him and the two screws had dinner with one of the biggest blaggers this country’s ever known. Lewis is no silly old bastard. He’s a dangerous, vindictive and shrewd customer. It would do you good to bear that in mind, if you’re thinking of stepping into his shoes.’
Chopper lit a paper-thin roll-up and grinned. ‘Anyone would think you were worried about me.’
Georgio shook his head. ‘That’s just it, Chopper - I am. I don’t want to see you sliced up in the john one morning, because that’s what’s going to happen to Timmy, and he knows it. Lewis will be off on one of his jaunts soon, Durham probably, then we can all breathe more easily for a while. But take the advice of someone who knows. Lewis isn’t worth the hag he’s gonna be causing you if you carry on this vendetta with Big Ricky. Even that black ponce will draw in his horns once he knows Lewis is on his way home.’
Chopper listened to Georgio in silence, taking in the words and also the inflection in his voice.
‘So I take it you’ll grass for him then?’ he said.
Georgio shook his head and smiled. ‘Of course not - what do you take me for, eh? I’ll give him a load of old fanny. I don’t want a knife in me ribs off someone else, thank you very much. I have enough trouble getting through the days with Lewis on me back. Enemies I got plenty of, I don’t need to make any more.’
‘Why are you telling me all this?’ Chopper’s voice was low, genuinely interested.
‘I’m telling you this, Chopper, because we are banged up together, and as Timmy once pointed out to me, if you get torched one night, so do I. Just before I came in here Lewis had a bloke burnt alive on another wing, and do you know why? Lewis thought he had given him a dirty look in the chapel. Now if that don’t tell you what you need to know, nothing will. He’s a bona fide headcase, you mark my words. Timmy will be skinned alive one night, and that’s if Lewis arrives back in a good mood. He has the backing of a lot of major criminals, mate, he’s hand in glove with them all - the real big ones. He made a point of cultivating them over the years, now he can call on literally anyone to help his end. If you’ve got a fucking death wish, then put in for a cell transfer before you make any moves, OK?’
Chopper took a deep drag on his roll-up, then blew out the smoke slowly, digesting what Georgio had said.
‘Lewis warned me to put the frighteners on you, but you know that - I told you before. You have the look of a man who’s going places, Brunos, and maybe, just maybe . . . I might want to go with you.’
Georgio sat on his bunk and pushed his hands through his hair. ‘I dunno what the fuck you’re talking about. All I do know is, if Lewis can move around, then he’ll be back here in the prison hospital. And when he is, he might just as well be in your jockey shorts with you, that’s how close to us all he’ll be. If, and I mean if, I go on the trot, you will be the first to know. But at the moment I just want to get through me time in peace.’
Chopper nodded nonchalantly. He had made his point and he knew it.
‘You’re a funny bloke, Brunos. I heard you was a hard card of a man.’
Georgio nodded. ‘I am. But I am also a shrewd man. I know when to keep me trap shut and listen, and when to open it and get things done.’
‘That’s the kind of man you are, is it?’
Georgio looked at him. ‘I’m also a frightened man. Lewis frightens me and I ain’t ashamed to admit it. He makes Saddam Hussein seem like one of the Three Bears. I’m frightened all right, and if you had an ounce of brains in your head, you’d be shitting about it now.’
Chopper answered slowly this time. ‘I think you’re talking sense, Brunos. I might heed your warning.’
Georgio slammed himself back on his bunk. Lying flat, he put his hands behind his head.
‘Do what you fucking like, but remember what I told you. If you persist with your plan of action, get a cell change first.’
Chopper leant towards him as he opened
his mouth to speak. Georgio pulled a long thin blade from out of the mattress.
‘Shut it, Chopper. You’re beginning to get on my fucking nerves now, all right? I might just flex my muscles on you, boyo, and wouldn’t that please your Mr Lewis, eh?’
Chopper was amazed at the change in Georgio’s face. His eyes were burning with hatred and his teeth were bared; an almost feral look was on his face. Chopper realised that he had underestimated Georgio because of his outward demeanour. Moving cautiously away from the blade, he slowly held up his hands.
‘You’ll keep, Georgio.’
The other man laughed harshly. ‘Don’t push me, you scouse cunt. You’ve trodden on my toes once too often for my liking. I’ve given you good advice, now take it or shut the fuck up. Do what you’ve gotta do but leave me out of it - OK? I have enough on my plate with Lewis, without you putting your two bob’s worth in.’
Chopper picked up some cards from the desk and began shuffling them, his face closed.
He knew what he wanted, and Georgio would keep for a while. But he would lay money on the fact that his cellmate was for the out, for the jump, and when he finally jumped, Chopper wanted to be right behind him.
Donna walked out of The Waterloo into the cold night air. She shivered slightly as they made for the car.
‘What did you think of Nick?’ Alan’s voice was curious.
‘I liked him, actually. Once you get past his funny clothes and camp way of talking, you discover a very intelligent man.’
Alan opened the door for her and as she sat down, he said, ‘Shall I let you into a secret? Nick ain’t gay. He’s a cross-dresser who got caught up in the gay scene years ago. He takes a woman now and then.’
Donna’s eyes widened at the thought.
Alan climbed into the driving seat and grinned.
‘Honestly, it’s as true as I’m sitting here. Some old lag told me that. He plays on the camp angle. And let me tell you, it’s the perfect cover for him and all.’
The Jump Page 37