by Kitty Neale
‘Yes, I know. Maurice told me about the stroke and when Dad comes home, I'll help you to look after him.’
‘There's no need. I can cope, but just watch what you say in front of him.’ Joan was surprised that Maurice had told Pet. It hadn't been her idea to keep the girl in the dark, but as usual, her brothers had wanted their little sister protected. Well, she'd have to grow up now, and though Joan didn't want any help with Dan's care, it was about time Pet learned how to do a bit of housework.
Joan settled in her seat as Maurice drove them home. Dan had seemed upset when Pet had asked a string of questions in front of him, but she was sure there was more to it than that. He had become worse when Pet left, and now Joan realised it was the mention of Danny that had started him off. Yet surely that should have relieved him of any worry, not cause him to nearly have a fit.
‘Maurice, did your father have a falling-out with Danny?’
‘Er, no, Mum, not that I'm aware of. Why do you ask?’
‘I'm probably imagining things, but he seemed to get out of his pram when I mentioned Danny's name.’
‘He's probably just worried about the business.’
‘Yeah, maybe,’ Joan said, but somehow she thought there was more to it than that. She was then struck by a thought. Yes, that must be it. She'd have a word with Danny as soon as they arrived home.
Danny was turning over the things he needed to say. He'd called a meeting for nine o'clock that evening, and rather than return to the yard, he'd told Yvonne to disappear as soon as the boys came round. He didn't intend to discuss business in front of her, so she could bugger off next door to sit with his mother.
When there was a knock on the door, he was surprised to see his mother on the step. ‘Hello, Mum. How's Dad?’ he asked as she stepped inside.
‘About the same, but something's worrying him. He became very agitated when I mentioned you and I've been thinking about it on the way home. I reckon it's because you haven't been to see him lately. Your brothers all go, but when was the last time you went to the hospital?’
‘I ain't been for over a week, but I've been busy. I've got the business to run, and since George took our capital, there's a lot to sort out.’
‘What are you talking about? What capital? And when did George take it?’
Danny ran a hand over his face. ‘Oh, shit, that just slipped out. Look, we didn't want you to know this, but I suppose I'll have to tell you now. That box you found on the bathroom floor, well, it had money in it: Dad's savings and capital for the business. George sneaked back and took the lot.’
He saw the blood drain from his mother's face. ‘Mum, are you all right?’
There was a pause but then she said, ‘I'm fine. It was just a shock, that's all. I don't know why you had to keep it from me in the first place. Mind you, I dread to think what your father will say when he finds out.’ Her hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh, listen to me, I'm not thinking straight. It would be best if we keep it from your father for now. The shock would be too much for him and might bring on another stroke.’
‘Until he's on his feet and can talk again, we won't tell him, Mum.’
‘Danny, I hate to say this, but he might never recover his speech, or be able to walk again. Now I know that you're busy, but you must find time to visit him.’
Danny hung his head, fighting for an excuse. Whenever he went to visit him, the old man got upset, and nowadays he avoided the hospital like the plague. Though his father couldn't talk coherently, Danny could guess what he was trying to say. He was out of favour and there was no way the old man would want him running things. It was just as well he couldn't talk, or it might be Maurice or Bob handling the business. If he went to see the old man when the others were there, they might twig and that was the last thing he wanted.
He met his mother's eyes now, the lie easy. ‘I'm sorry, Mum, it's, well … it does my head in to see Dad like that.’
‘I know it's hard, but go to see him, and when he comes home, I don't want him pressured. Have a word with the boys – tell them that if they have any problems they must bring them to you.’
‘Yeah, all right.’
‘If your father has complete peace, you never know, he might get better. In the meantime, I don't want him involved in running the business, so when you go to see him, don't mention it. Well, other than to say that everything is fine.’
Danny could see the change in his mother, the icy determination in her eyes. She no longer looked distant and remote. In fact, she looked like she was suddenly made of steel.
‘Don't worry, Mum. We all want Dad to get better and know we shouldn't worry him. I can look after the business for as long as it takes.’
‘You're a good lad, and as I told your father, you're a chip off the old block.’
Yvonne had remained quiet during this exchange, but when Bob knocked on the door she rose to her feet. ‘The boys want to talk business, so if it's all right with you, Mum, I'll come round to your place for a while.’
‘I suppose so.’
When they had both left, Bob said, ‘What did Mum want?’
‘She wants to make sure that we don't pester Dad. When he comes home he's got to have peace and quiet so there's to be no business talk in front of him.’
When the others turned up, Danny repeated what their mother had said, and then it was on to business. ‘I wanted to keep the hard porn strictly in the family, but with George taking our capital, it's impossible. I've come up with another idea and had a word with Eddy Woodman. He doesn't want to get involved in the making of hard porn, but he's agreed to let us use his equipment until we can buy our own.’
‘That won't be for some time,’ Maurice said. ‘A decent camera won't be cheap, not to mention the gear for developing and splicing.’
‘What about the girls, and the blokes, are they willing to take it up a notch?’ asked Bob.
‘Only one pair; the others don't want to know. I had a word with Lillie Ellington and she can supply what we need, but it's gonna cost a good few bob.’
‘Why go through that old hag? Why can't you get a few girls off the street? There's plenty around Soho.’
‘Use your head, Bob. We don't want anyone finding out about our setup or where it is. When Garston gets wind of what we're up to he's gonna put feelers out, and tarts like that won't keep their mouths shut. They'd soon blab to save their skins.’
‘Lillie's crew would be the same.’
‘No they won't. Lillie has her lot well under control. They know what would happen to them if they open their mouths.’
‘I hope you're right,’ Maurice said doubtfully, ‘but I still think it's too risky.’
‘Look, we've got to take a few risks if we want to make money. As I said before, we can soon hire some muscle if Garston gets wind of us.’
‘Yeah, and that's gonna cost too,’ Maurice complained.
‘For the time being, we'll just have to tighten our belts a bit more. The most important thing is to get up and running, the sooner the better. In fact, I want to schedule our first shoot for Friday.’
‘That soon?’
‘Yes, Maurice, that soon,’ Danny said. ‘Me and Chris have been out and about and we've got advance orders.’
‘What's on the agenda for tomorrow?’ Chris asked.
‘We've still got the usual stuff to make so I'll need you at Wimbledon. Maurice will be needed here to run Mum to the hospital, and Bob, I want you at the yard. There's a delivery of bricks and we can't leave that little weasel Steve to handle it on his own.’
‘Why me?’
‘For fuck's sake, just do it, Bob. It'll only be for a couple of hours and then you can join us at Wimbledon.’
Danny exhaled loudly, fed up with Bob's constant carping. He hadn't forgotten that Bob had tried to put him in the shit with the old man, but he'd get his revenge. What his brothers didn't know was that when the money came rolling in again, he intended to stash some away until he had the capital he needed. With the ol
d man out of the way, he could go ahead with his plans to film kiddie porn. There was loads of money to be made, but he was going to keep his brothers out of the loop and ensure that all the profits were his. He'd already put a few feelers out, making discreet enquiries about getting hold of kids, and it had proved to be easier than expected.
Joan's mind was racing and she hardly listened as Yvonne chattered. She had been so intent on Dan that she had put the blood on the bathroom floor out of her mind, but after speaking to Danny and finding out that George had come back to take the money, her stomach was churning.
Had Chris caught George stealing it? Had he gone for him? Was it George's blood? No, no, of course it wasn't. Chris would never hurt his own brother. He was a good, kind lad, the best of the bunch. She was being silly and had to forget these daft suspicions.
‘Are you all right? I don't think you've heard a word I've said.’
‘What? Oh, sorry, Yvonne, I was miles away.’
‘I said I'll help you when Dan comes home, but before then you'll have to think about where he's going to sleep.’
‘Sleep! What do you mean?’
‘Mum, he's going to be in a wheelchair. He won't be able to manage the stairs.’
Joan gave herself a mental shake. Dan was her main concern – his care when he came home. ‘Yes, you're right, Yvonne. He'll have to sleep down here. I'll get a day bed, but it means getting rid of the sofa.’
‘What a shame. And what about a commode? I know the toilet's downstairs, but it might be a job to wheel him through the kitchen to the bathroom.’
For the rest of the evening, Joan concentrated solely on Dan's homecoming, but when Chris came in, she just looked at him and her stomach did a somersault.
‘Why are you looking at me like that, Mum?’
‘Like what?’
‘Like I've done something wrong.’
‘Don't be silly, you're imagining things.’ Yet even as she said these words, Joan knew she wasn't telling the truth. She did think that Chris had done something wrong, very wrong. Since the day that George had attacked his father, Chris hadn't been the same. There was something in his eyes that hadn't been there before, something deep, something haunted. Joan shuddered. The thought that her favourite son had done something to his brother, along with the fact that George had nearly killed his own father, was unbearable. She couldn't deal with it, she just couldn't, and as usual when unable to face things, she buried her head in the sand.
Chapter Fifteen
The following morning, Danny parked in the drive, and as he and Chris climbed out of the car, his eyes took in their surroundings. The spot in Wimbledon had been chosen for its location: down a narrow lane, it was well out of the way. There were no neighours to question the comings and goings, and they had put Pete Saunders in the cottage. He was an ex-con with a past, reclusive, grateful to work the small holding, to grow vegetables, and to live rent free in return for his silence. He was the perfect foil should anyone decide to call, playing his part perfectly and acting like an eccentric old git if anyone asked questions. Not that many people had called over the years, but there were the meter readers, the occasional religious touts, and when there were local elections, the party candidates. So far the ploy had worked perfectly and Danny hoped it would continue to do so.
As they walked into the large barn, the high rafters hung with lighting, Danny interrupted the babble of voices. ‘Right, let's get started,’ he snapped, but he was pleased to see that the girls and their partners were ready. Bored with filming the soft stuff, and looking forward to making the real money-spinners, Danny just wanted to get it over with. He moved to inspect the set.
‘We're nearly ready,’ Eddy Woodman said as he tested the lighting with his meter.
A harem scene had been attempted with lots of soft draping, the bed covered with red satin sheets. Bright, embroidered silk cushions had been scattered along the headboard, but Danny shook his head, saying in disgust, ‘You fucking morons. Since when did sheiks sleep in beds?’
‘You and Chris are a bit late so we'd thought we'd get things moving,’ Eddy protested, ‘and it looks all right to me.’
Danny was about to explode again when Chris spoke.
‘We're supposed to be in a desert, not a suburban bedroom, but it won't take long to put right. Give me a hand, Eddy. We'll take the mattress off the bed and put it on the floor. Set up a canvas backdrop and hang a few lamps around.’
‘I'm supposed to be the cameraman, not the bloody labourer,’ Eddy moaned. ‘George used to do the humping.’
‘Well, he ain't here, so just get on with it,’ Danny snapped.
After one look at Danny's face, Eddy hurried to do his bidding, the task soon completed.
‘It looks nice,’ Andrea said as she preened in her mauve, chiffon costume.
With her midriff exposed and long shapely legs visible through the gauze trousers, Danny had to admit she looked tasty. Her long, dark, straight hair tumbled down her back, but the effect was spoiled by her chewing vigorously on gum.
‘Have you looked at your part?’ Danny asked.
‘Yeah, it's a piece of cake. I'm dragged in, protesting, and when the sheik pulls off my veil I act scared. Then when he starts on me, I struggle for a little while before giving in. I then start to enjoy it and we get down to business.’
Danny exhaled loudly. ‘Yeah, well, just make sure you ain't chewing that bloody gum.’
Andrea giggled and once again Danny was struck by how innocent she looked. Innocent – that was a bloody laugh. The girl was a tart, but she usually played her parts well. His eyes flicked to the so called sheik, a bloke they used regularly. Tall, muscular and covered in tan-coloured panstick, he looked the part, and his costume wasn't bad either. He had played many roles but, like Andrea, he wanted to be on the stage. The soft-porn roles were just a way of making money whilst he waited for his big break.
At first Danny had loved the filming, finding himself aroused every time he watched the action, and though they pretended otherwise, he knew his brothers had felt the same. Of course, unlike him, they went home to their wives, whereas he would call round to his latest girlfriend to indulge his fantasies. Some of the girls they used were on offer, but Danny wouldn't touch them with a bargepole. He'd never fancied going in after they'd been with someone else, and he wasn't about to start now, despite the inviting smile he got from Rusty, a redhead who made it obvious she fancied him.
‘Right, let's get started,’ he ordered.
Eddy checked the lighting again before moving behind the camera, saying to Danny as though it was an afterthought, ‘How's your dad?’
‘About the same, but he's coming home soon so things can get back to normal. Bob will be able to do the editing full time again, and Chris will here to handle the sets.’
With a few more tweaks to the scenery they were ready, and Danny stood behind Eddy as the camera began to roll. Andrea was dragged in by two blokes dressed up to look like eunuchs, her eyes wide with fear, her acting perfect as she got into the role. For once it went without a hitch, and Danny found his thoughts drifting, bored with seeing sex acted out.
He thought back to what his mother had said: that if the old man had peace and quiet, lack of stress, he might make a recovery. If that was the case, his father would be in charge again, but Danny loved being in control and didn't want to give it up.
By ten o'clock that evening, most of the residents of Drapers Alley were at home. In number six, the kids were in bed, and with only the gentle ticking of the mantel clock, all was quiet. Steve put down his newspaper, and then ran a hand over his face.
‘Why haven't you been to visit your uncle?’ he asked Ivy.
She shrugged. ‘I haven't had the chance, and anyway, I haven't been asked. Maurice drives Joan and Yvonne up there every day, but I ain't been invited, and in the evenings it's the same. The boys and Pet go, but not one of them has given me a thought.’
‘You could go on the bus.’
‘Why should I get a bus when the others are all driven in style? Anyway, I ain't the only one who hasn't seen him. Sue and Norma haven't been either.’
‘I still think it looks bad.’
‘And I think it's bad that you've had to take a cut in your pay. After all, you're the one who does all the work at the yard and the others have hardly shown their faces lately. You should speak up for yourself. Tell Danny you want the same pay and a day off every week.’
‘With Dan in hospital, the boys are busy. Things will get back to normal once he's home.’
‘Don't count on it. Uncle Dan had a stroke so it's doubtful he'll ever be fit to run things again. Anyway, when the boys ain't at the hospital, they still ain't at the yard so I'd love to know where they go and what they get up to.’
‘Search me,’ Steve said, hoping that Ivy would stop quizzing him. He knew what the boys were up to – knew that when they weren't filming in Wimbledon, they were touting for business. Mind you, he was sure something else was in the wind, but so far he'd been kept in the dark. Despite Ivy telling him to complain, he knew better than to open his mouth. Dan might be ill and incapable of running the business, but his eldest son was even less approachable. Danny was throwing his weight about, snapping orders, with all of them expected to jump at his commands.
Steve's expression was wry. It could be worse. At least Danny had taken over and, though prone to violence, he was a pussycat compared to George. Steve wasn't sorry that George had disappeared off the face of the earth, and he had his own theory about that. He reckoned that George had jumped ship and gone abroad, well out of his brothers' reach.
‘Steve, how do you feel about moving away from Drapers Alley?’
Steve's face stretched in disbelief. It was Ivy who had wanted to live here in the first place, but he'd move out again like a shot. ‘Yeah, it would suit me, but what makes you think the council would rehouse us?’
‘I don't know if they will, but it wouldn't do any harm to give them a try.’