The Jump

by Cole, Martina

  Donna still didn’t answer. Looking at her out of the corner of his eye, Alan felt a great sorrow for her. She was too naive for her own good. That had been the trouble from the very beginning.

  Now he had to frighten her into keeping a low profile while he sorted out Georgio’s demise.

  Because, now that Stephen Brunos was dead, they were all in big trouble.

  The only hope he had was through Nick Carvello. Nick, whose hatred of beasts was legendary. Only he could save the day.

  For the first time in years Alan Cox was frightened, deeply afraid.

  And all thanks to the woman sitting beside him. If he was a different kind of man, he reflected, he would have slapped her across the chops before now.

  As he looked at her set face, he told himself there was a first time for everything.

  Dolly heard the key in the lock and her body froze in terror. Ever since Paddy’s visit she had lived in mortal fear of him coming back after he found out she was lying.

  Donna walked into the warmth of the house and Dolly’s tearful embrace.

  ‘Oh Donna, Donna! Am I pleased to see you, lovie!’

  Donna pulled herself gently away.

  ‘Calm down, Dolly. I tried to ring from Sri Lanka but the phones out there are so erratic. You have to book the calls hours in advance. I’d have been home before I could have called, if you see what I mean.’ She tried to lighten the woman’s mood.

  Dolly walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on with shaking hands.

  ‘There’s been trouble here, Donna. Paddy came over with Davey Jackson, looking for you. He . . . he threatened me, Donna. Paddy threatened me. He grabbed my hair . . .’

  Her voice broke and Donna watched her dissolve into tears once more. She tried to comprehend what Dolly was telling her.

  ‘Paddy? Paddy attacked you?’

  Dolly nodded in agitation. ‘He wanted to know where you were, Donna. And who you were with, like. I told him you’d gone to Liverpool with Alan Cox, I didn’t know what else to say. They wanted to know where he was and all. He was livid, Donna. Paddy looked capable of murder. ’

  Donna sank down on to a kitchen chair, her mind racing. What the hell had happened? It seemed the world was going mad. If she hadn’t gone out to Sri Lanka, none of the last few days’ events would have occurred. Alan was right to say that anyway. She had caused a lot of problems by rooting around and finding so much out. But what else could she have done? Little children were involved. Babies.

  She had had to sort all that out, no woman could have left that to chance. No woman in the world.

  Except a woman like Candy, she reminded herself. Except the women who sold their children off like so much dirt.

  Myra Hindley wasn’t as unique as people made out. There were many others like her, cold-blooded enough to harm a child, whether they did it purposely, with their own hands, or handed them over to someone else to harm. The child was still damaged, and at their instigation.

  ‘And Davey Jackson was with him, you say?’

  Dolly nodded. ‘He tried to stop Paddy. In fairness to him, he did try to stop him, Donna.’

  ‘That was big of him, I must say! Pity he wasn’t so concerned for the children he employs!’

  Dolly’s face screwed up in bewilderment. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I’m talking about a brothel out in Sri Lanka. I am talking about pornographic pictures of children coming down phone lines from Asia to England. I am talking about taking the porn and putting it on to floppy discs and making the pictures into porno mags for paedophiles, sold all over the British Isles by mail order. I am talking about Georgio, Paddy, Davey, and all the others being involved in it. That, Dolly, is what I’m talking about. You were right all along.’

  Dolly’s face dropped. ‘So it was Georgio then. He was behind it all.’

  Donna nodded.

  ‘I had a feeling on me it was him,’ Dolly admitted shakily. ‘I don’t know why, but I just knew it. That’s big business. No wonder Paddy wanted to find out what was going on.’

  ‘It’s big business all right, and Georgio wanted to make it so big he stripped all the businesses here to do it. I must have been half-blind over the years, blind and deaf. Dolly, how could I have lived with a man all these years and not realised he was just scum. A piece of scum!’

  Dolly sighed, her own fear forgotten now as she looked at the broken-hearted woman before her.

  ‘He wasn’t always scum, Donna. Georgio’s trouble was greed. He was always greedy - and greedy people do terrible things. Remember him years ago? Before the building business got big? He was a good man in them days.’

  Donna snorted. ‘Was he? He was so good he was shagging anything that moved and wasn’t nailed down, that’s how good he was. Do you know how I feel, Dolly? Can you even guess what I’m feeling now? I find out that twenty years of my life were completely wasted on a piece of scum. A piece of shit. A Greek ponce! I feel as if everyone must have been laughing up their sleeves at me over the years. Stupid Donna, the idiot in the Mercedes. The well-dressed, well-spoken wife of the biggest slag God ever put on the earth.

  ‘And do you know the worst of it all?’ she admitted bitterly. ‘I looked down on people like Carol Jackson. I thought she was common! Because I had my degree, I assumed I was far more intelligent than them. Yet Carol Jackson has more savvy, as she would call it, in her little finger than I have in my whole body! I’m a useless prat and Georgio used me for this jump, knowing that. Knowing I was silly enough to believe whatever he told me.

  ‘Oh, sod the tea,’ Donna decided. ‘Let’s get out the scotch, Dolly. There’s a lot more I still have to tell you.’

  Carol Jackson watched Davey as she put the children’s tea on the table. He was gnawing at his thumbnail, always a sign of agitation, and she wondered what was bothering him.

  ‘Are you all right, Davey?’

  He stared out of the window and ignored her.

  ‘Davey! I said, are you all right?’

  He looked at her then, his blue eyes shadowed with fear, and Carol dropped to her knees by his chair.

  ‘What’s the matter, Davey? You haven’t been right for a while. Is there something wrong? Can I help you with it? Is there anything I can do?’

  Davey looked down into his wife’s face. Her blonde hair was as usual backcombed into a tangle, her make-up expertly overdone. One of her false eyelashes had come unstuck in the corner and it gave her eyes an oddly pleasing appearance. As if she was oriental. Her lipstick was gone, but the pencil outline remained.

  He saw her as she had been on their wedding day, belly nearly down to her knees but her face alight with happiness. For over twenty years she had stood beside him. He knew that if she had even an inkling as to what he was involved in, really involved in, she would be disgusted. As he was disgusted. And for the first time ever, he wondered what he would do if he lost her. Really lost her. For so long she had wanted him, had made all the running. All their married life he had been virtually single. She had been the married one for them both.

  He wondered how he would feel if she wasn’t there, waiting for him to come home, waiting with his meals, waiting to listen to him. He wondered what it would be like to open a drawer and not find any clean underclothes, socks or shirts miraculously folded up there by his wife’s hands. He wondered how he would feel if he had to visit his children at weekends instead of playing the big-time father as and when it suited him. Normally Christmas and birthdays.

  He wondered what Carol’s reaction would be to hearing what he was involved in from a third party.

  But he knew the answer to that one. She would pick up the bread-knife and stab him through the heart.

  Carol was a child-lover; she was decent in her own way. She would never countenance paedophiles or their merchandise. She thought that the floppy discs had grown women on them, and even then she hadn’t been too happy about it.

  If she knew there were children on them, that the children
were being abused to satisfy his greed and a pervert’s lust . . .

  His eyes went to the bread-knife on the table again. Carol would be capable of murder.

  But worse than the thought of her anger, was the thought of her contempt. Her complete disgust and hatred for him, because he knew that was exactly what she would feel. He felt that way himself.

  It was Georgio again. He always went along with Georgio and Georgio had got him involved with talk of riches and all they could bring. The children would be used anyway, he’d maintained. Whether it was by them or by someone else. It was different out there, acceptable even. He had told Davey that in China the old men slept with young children because it was considered lucky. It was supposed to bring back their virility.

  To Georgio it had all been one big joke, nothing to worry about, and Davey had believed him. As he’d always believed him. Georgio had smoothtalked him into it all, and now with every day that passed he felt the noose tightening around his neck. He was getting in deeper and deeper and didn’t know how to get out.

  ‘Have you seen anything of Donna, or heard from her?’ he asked quietly.

  Carol shook her head. ‘Why are you so worried about Donna, love? Is she in trouble?’

  He saw the worry in her eyes, the concern written all over her face. Carol had never really liked Donna over the years, yet she had rallied round for her when Georgio had been put away.

  How could he have wanted Donna, or any woman, when he had all he really needed right here? Inside his home, the mother of his children, his wife. His Carol, whom he had never, ever appreciated.

  She would stand by him through prison, debt, anything. Except what he was involved in now. If she knew about that, she would drop him like so much dirty laundry. Why did you have to be on the verge of losing someone before you realised how much they meant to you?

  ‘Oh, Carol darlin’, I love you more than you’ll ever know, more than you could even guess.’

  She looked at Davey as if she had never seen him before. In all their years together, never once had he spoken to her like that. Not even in the dead of night when he took her body. Never once had he offered an insight into his mind, except when he was in prison. Then he loved her in his letters. Wrote her poems, and told her he couldn’t live without her.

  But never had he spoken the words out loud before, and they caught her offguard and made her want to cry.

  Because she knew that, to speak them, Davey had to be in big trouble.

  Donna told Dolly everything, leaving out only the fact that she had slept with Alan Cox.

  Dolly had listened in shocked silence, and when Donna told her about Stephen Brunos, she shook her head sadly and said, ‘Poor Maeve. It’ll break her heart.’

  It was while they were talking over what could be done, what should be done, that the knock came on Donna’s front door.

  Dolly stood up, her arms and legs trembling. ‘Jesus! It might be Big Paddy back again!’

  Donna stood by the kitchen door, her heart in her mouth. But it was only Carol Jackson calling through the letter box. Sighing with relief, Donna opened the front door to her.

  Carol walked into the house, bringing with her the smell of Estée Lauder and her own sound common sense.

  She looked at Donna and said seriously: ‘I want to know where you disappeared to, what you’re up to, and finally, what it’s got to do with my old man.’

  Chapter Forty-One

  Donna stared into Carol’s strained face and felt her heart go out to the woman. Knowing Carol as she did, Donna was aware that the knowledge she had inside her could wreck Carol’s life - because here was a decent woman who would never, ever countenance what Georgio, Paddy and her husband were doing.

  ‘I think you’d better come into the kitchen and have a large drink, Carol.’

  Carol looked fearfully at Donna’s tired face, the dark smudges under her eyes and the hard edge to her lips, and instinctively knew that what she was about to hear would only hurt her.

  ‘Do I need a large drink then, to hear what you’ve got to say?’

  Donna walked towards the kitchen and said over her shoulder, ‘Carol, love, you’ll need more than one drink before this day’s out, believe me when I tell you that.’

  Carol sat nervously at the table, Dolly’s bowed head bothering her more than anything. If it upset Dolly then it was serious.

  Donna seated herself and poured Carol a scotch. ‘Before I start, how much do you know about Georgio and Davey’s dealings in Sri Lanka?’

  Carol felt her insides turning to ice water as Donna spoke.

  ‘I know enough,’ she said. ‘The point is, how much do you know?’

  At this point, Dolly looked over at Carol with distaste - a look Carol didn’t understand; was unsure how to take.

  ‘I expect you’ve found out it was porn, have you?’ she said defensively. ‘Well, my advice to you is to come down to the real world with everyone else, Donna. Porn is a part of our daily life, whether it’s a blue film or a page three girl. Soft porn never hurt anyone. So if you’re running round like a cat with a scalded arse over a bit of old bluey, I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong, Donna. Dead wrong.’

  When Donna and Dolly still remained silent, Carol sighed heavily.

  ‘Listen, I know porn probably gives you the heebie-jeebies, it does me to be honest, but it’s like Georgio said: if we don’t do it, someone else will. Whatever happens it’ll be made and we might as well be making it. Can’t you see that? It’s just economics, sound economics.’

  Donna sipped her scotch and looked into Carol’s heavily made-up face.

  ‘Have you ever seen any of the books or the contents of the floppy discs? Have you ever seen any of the so-called soft porn my husband and yours are peddling to all and sundry? Only I have, and believe me, Carol, it’s bloody disgusting.’

  Carol spread her hands. ‘What are they, hardcore porn? Stag movies? Look - my sister used to make them for a living in the seventies. They’ve been around since the silent movies, love . . .’

  Donna interrupted her. ‘The films and photographs aren’t of women, you fool, they’re of children! The hotel in Sri Lanka deals in children. Little ones, Carol, like your own kids. I’ve been there, seen it, done it, got the bloody T shirt, for Christ’s sake!

  ‘Stephen Brunos was out there,’ Donna said into the shocked silence, ‘sorting out the next shipment. That meant making sure the stuff went down the phone lines, to be retrieved this end and put on to disc after disc after disc. I found a projection table a while ago. It started in pounds, single pounds. Then it ran into millions. I thought it was just something Georgio was working out for the building business. It was the floppy discs, Carol. And Davey knows all about it, everything. So does Big Paddy.’

  Carol couldn’t, wouldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her face was drained of colour; only her eyes were burning bright.

  ‘Not my Davey, no way! Georgio, yes, he’d sell his own little boy for a few quid but not my old man. No way. You’ve got this all wrong. No way, I tell you! The hotel in Sri Lanka is just that, a fucking hotel. I don’t know where you get your information from, lady—’

  Donna interrupted her again. ‘I have just come back from Sri Lanka, Carol. Listen to me, woman! I know what I saw out there, all right? I know the score.’

  Carol was still shaking her head.

  ‘You’re off your trolley. Davey was right in what he said. You’ve been like a fucking Jonah ever since Georgio got banged up, always sticking your nose into everything . . .’

  Donna nodded. ‘That’s why Paddy had to keep an eye on me, ain’t it? That’s why Davey kept an eye on me as well. To stop me finding out about this little lot.’

  Carol bellowed. ‘What little lot? I’ve only your word for any of this. I’ve been with Davey for donkey’s years. He hates anything like that. Hates the nonces and the beasts . . .’ Her strident voice broke.

  Donna wiped a shaking hand across her forehead. ‘Show her
the books Dolly.’

  Dolly got up. Going to her large handbag, she removed the books and placed them in front of Carol.

  Carol stared down through tear-filled eyes at the faces of the children. She shuddered.

  ‘This still doesn’t mean my Davey’s involved . . .’

  Dolly said quietly, ‘Paddy and Davey turned up here to collect some boxes. I secretly took these out of the boxes before they arrived. Your Davey’s involved, all right. They all are. Scum, the whole lot of them.’

  Carol looked down at the books once more. Leaning over the table, Donna turned the pages.

  Carol stared at the children arrayed before her, saw the blank faces, the small bodies opened up to the camera, saw the huge hands of faceless men touching them, abusing them . . . and felt the bile rise inside her. All along, she had dreaded something like this. It had always been lurking in the back of her mind.

  Georgio Brunos was capable of anything. Once he had talked about Thailand while visiting her house, had described to Davey how the women could be used. She had been in her kitchen listening. Unable to stop listening to the things Georgio was saying, was describing. She could still hear Davey’s excited voice, egging him on for more details, more stories. And she could hear Georgio’s voice, getting louder as he described the brothels, the bar girls, the absolute abuse possible in a country where willing bodies were cheap.

  She had gone to bed, half-ashamed at eavesdropping, half-ashamed at not saying anything. When Davey had gone out there to look at the proposed hotel sites with Georgio, she had known exactly what was on the agenda. But she hadn’t said anything, because if she had voiced an opinion, she would have had to admit it was true, and that was the last thing she wanted. Once she admitted that, Davey and she would be over. Her marriage would be over. It was over now, she realised. It had been over from the moment she had walked into this house.

  ‘Do you know something, Donna? Inside, I knew about all this. I even knew when I was driving over here, only I didn’t admit it openly. It was more a subconscious thought. But there all the same. I just couldn’t admit to myself that Davey was involved in it. Oh, Georgio being involved don’t surprise me. He always was a slag. Always. He even tried it on with me when I was pregnant with Jamie. Said pregnant women turned him on.’