by Martina Cole
Francis Pemberton stared at Donna with new eyes. ‘You’re threatening me.’
She shook her head emphatically. ‘I am not threatening you, Mr Pemberton, I am merely stating my case clearly and succinctly. Either you extend my credit or I go elsewhere. It’s sound business sense. I have no interest in closing any more of the sites. If I finish off the main site in Ilford, I come out with close on one hundred thousand pounds clear. That’s after everyone and everything has been paid. I will finish those houses, Mr Pemberton. That, as my husband would say, is a promise.’
Francis put his cigar in a large cut-glass ashtray. Linking his fingers together, he placed them on top of his desk. His face was closed, his eyes hooded. Donna felt her heart beating like a military tattoo inside her blouse. She hoped she hadn’t gone too far. The Murphys had in fact laughed her out of their offices, both men being enemies of Georgio’s from years gone by. But she hoped Pemberton didn’t know that.
Francis smiled once more, his pretend smile. ‘So Seamus Murphy offered you twenty grand, did he?’
Donna nodded, her mouth dry.
‘You sure it was twenty grand, love?’
‘Yes, I’m sure. It was twenty thousand. Even I can count, Mr Pemberton.’
He whistled softly. ‘I thought they didn’t get along with Georgio?’
Donna swallowed deeply. ‘They don’t. This is business, Mr Pemberton. I’m sure you do business with people you don’t like, all the time. It doesn’t make their money worth any less.’
‘True, good point. But I know for a fact Seamus would see Georgio in the gutter before he’d lift a boot to help him - and then he’d only kick him up the arse to help him on his way.’
‘Please don’t speak crudely to me, Mr Pemberton. It offends me. I have come here as a business associate, not a barmaid. I would appreciate your giving me your respect if not your money.’
Francis picked up his cigar and re-lit it with a gold Dunhill lighter, puffing on it furiously to keep it alight.
‘All right then, you’ve got it.’
‘Got what exactly, Mr Pemberton?’
‘The money for starters. We’ll see about the respect in a few months when you pay me back.’
‘I’ll pay you back, don’t worry about that.’
Francis smiled then, a real smile. ‘You’re a spunky little lady. I hope Georgio gives you your due, love.’
Donna closed her eyes with happiness. ‘He does, Mr Pemberton. I make sure of that.’
She shook hands with him and, nodding at him once more, walked from his office.
Outside in the fresh air she took a deep breath. She was pleased with herself, very pleased. Gradually, she was sorting out the mess that Georgio had left her in.
It said a lot for the distance Donna had travelled already that she now admitted her husband had left her in a mess. For no matter how she looked at it, that’s exactly what his building business was: a mess.
And the act of sorting through it all was what kept her going from one day to the next. The business would be booming when Georgio came home, she promised herself that night and morning.
She got into her car and decided to leave the phone turned off. She wanted to think, and God Himself knew, she had plenty to think about.
As she pulled away from Pemberton’s she didn’t see the navy-blue Jag pull out behind her.
It followed her back to the car lot.
Davey was like a cat on hot bricks. He chewed his thumbnail, gnawing at it as if he hadn’t eaten in a month.
Carol Jackson snapped at him: ‘For Christ’s sake, will you relax! She’s probably shopping!’
Davey stared at his wife and shook his head gravely. ‘We’re dealing with Lewis here, not fucking Boy Wonder. If he’s after giving her a little surprise, the chances are she’ll put the key in her motor and be blown sky high!’
Carol dismissed that idea with a shake of her head. ‘Look, think about it, Davey. The last thing he wants is Donna dead. If he did, she’d have been a gonner by now, mate. He just wants to scare old Georgio into opening his trap, so he’ll frighten her in some way then tell Georgio that next time he’ll annihilate her. Stop worrying.’
Davey stared out of the window at the car lot, his face tight. Carol rubbed his shoulders, trying to ease the tension.
‘I think she should be told the truth. The poor cow’s labouring under the illusion he’s as white as the driven snow. I mean, suppose she’d gone through the back office, eh? What would we have done then? Plus she has a bit more savvy than you or Georgio ever gave her credit for. Look at how she’s sorted out the building sites! She’ll click on eventually and then Georgio had better watch out. Her type can be very vindictive, mate.’
‘Give it a rest, Carol, for fuck’s sake. You’re doing my head in.’
Carol shrugged. ‘Listen to me, mate, I don’t have to take this shit any more. I am entitled to my opinion such as it is. I know women’s logic, Davey, and I know more about it than you do. She ain’t never had a real worry in the last twenty years as Georgio looked after her, but she’s still waters, is our Donna. She runs deep and cold, you mark my words.’
Davey listened to his wife’s strident voice and admitted the truth of her words to himself.
Who would have thought Donna Brunos could have done as much as she had on the sites? Admittedly, she had Big Paddy Donovon, but even without him, Davey had a feeling she’d still have come out on top. Still waters was the right expression for Donna Brunos. She’d been the little wife, and now she was the driven wife. Driven like a demon to see all her husband’s assets safely looked after. Everyone had admired her, everyone had taken a step back and added respect to their liking. Because it was a fact, everyone liked her. You couldn’t help it; even he admitted he liked her, more than he should in fact. He’d fantasised about having her in his bed more than once. She affected men like that. So calm, so cool, she was the proverbial ice maiden. Yet women liked her, too. Carol liked her, which was a shock in itself. Carol disliked most women heartily. Now he wondered if Carol liked her or admired her - there was a difference.
‘I think she’s been a bleeding saint since that Georgio got sent down. I can’t help it, Davey, she’s vulnerable in some ways, yet hard as nails in others. I hope that Greek shit appreciates her, I really do.’
‘He does, Carol. Any man would.’ He realised immediately he had said the wrong thing. The temperature in the office dropped below zero.
‘I hope you appreciate me, Davey Jackson.’
Davey grabbed at her hand. ‘I do, Carol,’ he said urgently. ‘More than you realise at times.’
Carol smiled half-heartedly and Davey breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing he needed today was a big punch-up with Carol, and with Carol, a big punch-up was what you got. She didn’t know how to argue, only how to fight.
‘Here she is!’ Carol sounded relieved.
Davey stood up and breathed a deep, heartfelt sigh of relief.
As Donna walked across the forecourt she studied the cars intently. Five Mercedes, one a Sports, two BMWs and a Rolls-Royce Corniche shone in the weak sunshine.
She entered the office with a spring in her step. ‘I got Pemberton to extend the credit!’ Then she looked askance at the two people in front of her. ‘Is everything all right?’
Carol grinned. ‘’Course it is, you just caught us having a barney!’
‘Shall I go out and come back in again?’ Donna joked.
‘Nah,’ Carol laughed. ‘Just sit yourself down there and I’ll make us all a cuppa.’
As she disappeared into the tiny kitchen Davey sat on the edge of the desk and looked at Donna as she took off her jacket.
‘How’d you swing it with Pemberton?’
Donna shook her head. ‘That man! He should be locked up. I talked rings round him - logically, as your Carol would say. Actually, he gave in quite quickly. I told him the Murphys had offered us the money.’
‘And he believed that!’
Donna grinned. ‘Not for a second. But he played the game. I told him that if I didn’t get the houses finished he would not get a penny if the bank foreclosed. It was sound economics.’
‘Anything else happen today?’
Donna sat behind the desk. ‘Such as?’
Davey shrugged. ‘I don’t know, anything unusual?’
Donna shook her head. ‘No. Has anyone rung here for me? I’ve had my car phone turned off. I hate taking calls while I’m driving.’
‘Only Big Paddy. I’m just going to the workshop. I’ll be back for my coffee in two shakes.’
Davey strode from the office and across the forecourt to the garage area, dialling Big Paddy’s number as he walked. He had to let him know that Donna was safe and at the car lot.
Carol brought the cups of coffee through and placed one in front of Donna.
‘What a day, eh? I tell you, Donna love, I’ll be glad when it’s over.’
Donna sipped her coffee without answering.
Lewis was watching Fifteen to One in the rec room and as usual you could hear a pin drop. It was Lewis’s only concession to TV, that and Mastermind. He answered the majority of the general knowledge questions with ease, a sneaking feeling of pleasure at each right answer enveloping him.
He glanced over to where Georgio stood watching him, and grinned. ‘Terrible news about Frankie White, ain’t it? Gunned down with his little boy in his arms. What a ruthless bastard he must have been. The gunman, not Frankie. Frankie’s trouble was, he thought he was a hard man.’ Lewis shook his head in mock disgust. ‘But all the same, a little baby. What is the world coming to? Still, good job his wife wasn’t there, they might have topped her and all. It’s a vicious world out there, Georgio, absolutely vicious. How’s your little wife by the way?’
Georgio bit on his lip and watched Lewis like a mouse watches a snake. Warily and with a grudging respect.
‘What’s the matter, Georgio? Cat got your tongue? Answer Mr Lewis.’
Derek Marchant was one of Lewis’s lesser henchmen and he wanted to rise in the ranks. Baiting Brunos looked like the way to do it. Everyone knew Lewis had it in for the Greek git.
Georgio turned his gaze on Derek and the man felt the force of Georgio’s wrath then. A prickle of fear ran up his spine.
Georgio stood up. ‘What did you say?’
Marchant was in a quandary. If he backed down now Lewis would disown him. Lewis only went for people who could look out for themselves, and for him. But one look at Brunos told him he had made a fatal mistake. He glanced around and noticed that Lewis’s men were all waiting for his word before they moved.
Marchant shrugged, trying to look relaxed. ‘You fucking heard.’
Georgio walked over to where Marchant was sitting down and peered into his face. The atmosphere was electric now. Men stopped playing cards and chatting quietly to watch Georgio front up Marchant.
‘You trying to say I’m fucking Mutt and Jeff now, eh? Just what are you trying to do, Derek? Want a fucking row with me, do you? Come on then, get up and I’ll row with you. Come on . . . don’t sit there, get up!’ Georgio’s voice ended on a loud bellow.
Then, dragging Marchant from the chair, he punched him to the ground. Holding the man’s hair in a vice-like grip, he smashed his face into the metal arm of the chair. He repeated the action five times, savouring the running blood and the release of his pent-up energy. Then he let go and watched Marchant slump to the floor. Turning round, he let his gaze roam over all the occupants in the room.
‘Anyone else up for it then? Come on, I’m in the mood. Who else wants a go then?’
No one spoke. Lewis watched him warily. Bringing back his foot, Georgio kicked Marchant repeatedly in the groin. Finally spent, he stared down at the man on the floor for a few moments before looking around him once more.
‘I am on a short fuse, and you’d better all get that in your heads.’ Then he straightened his shoulders and marched out of the room.
Lewis held up his hand to stop two of his men following. ‘Leave him be. This is what I wanted. Exactly what I wanted. Brunos needs to be put under pressure. I want him to blow.’
Turning up the TV, Lewis went back to watching Fifteen to One. No one took any notice of Marchant, who pulled himself to his feet and slowly staggered out of the room.
Dolly was making a cake, a cigarette dangling precariously from her lips as usual. Georgio used to joke that the ash from her fags enhanced her recipes.
Putting down the mixing bowl and spoon she flicked her cigarette butt into the waste disposal unit. She was about to pick up the bowl once more when she heard a car on the drive. Turning to the young man at her side, she pushed him unceremoniously out of the back door.
Donna had pulled up outside the house. Picking up her handbag, she got out of the car, pressed the automatic lock on her keyring and waited as the lights on the car flashed. She heard the soft clicking noise as the car locked itself.
Opening the front door, she walked through the large entrance hall to the kitchen.
Dolly greeted her with a smile. ‘Hello, love, I’m making a nice cinnamon cake for us. There’s a goulash that’s only got to be popped into the oven to warm, and coffee on the stove. Why not go away up and have a shower, while I finish here.’
Donna put the kettle on and waved her hand dismissively. ‘I need a strong cup of tea, Dolly. Do you want one?’
Dolly replaced the bowl and spoon on the worktop and, walking over to Donna, took the two china mugs from her hands. ‘Go on up and have a shower,’ she repeated, ‘and I’ll make you that cup of tea.’
Donna felt a moment’s irritation; she quickly suppressed it. Taking the mugs back from Dolly, she said firmly, ‘No thanks. I don’t want a shower yet, Dolly, I want to make a cup of tea.’
Seeing the hurt look on the older woman’s face she softened and said gently, ‘I don’t want to be rude, but sometimes you treat me like a little child. “Go and do this, go and do that.” Honestly, it gets a bit wearing at times.’
Dolly bit on her lip for a few seconds. ‘I’m sorry, Donna love. I’m only trying to help . . .’
Donna hugged the woman to her, smelling the cigarettes and cooking smells that always surrounded Dolly.
‘I know that! But seriously, Dolly, Georgio was the same. I never really realised it before, but you all treat me like I’m fifteen, yet I’m nearly forty years old. Even Davey and Carol wanted to run me home from the car lot today! I mean, Dolly, I’m quite capable of making a cup of tea, for Christ’s sake!’
Dolly was flabbergasted. Never before had she heard Donna talk like that. Not once in all the years she’d worked for the Brunoses. She felt the real threat of tears and turning abruptly away, went back to her cake mixture.
Donna closed her eyes so tightly it hurt. ‘I’m sorry, Dolly, you didn’t deserve that.’
The housekeeper lifted her shoulders and said, ‘I deserved it. You’re right, I do treat you like a child. You’re like me own flesh and blood, Donna. I don’t mean anything by it. I like looking after you. Gawd knows, I’d work here for free. I love you, girl. I always have.’
Donna went to the woman and put her arms around the ample waist. ‘And I like being looked after, most of the time. I’m just an old crosspatch today. Forgive me, Dolly?’
Dolly sniffed loudly and sighed. ‘Of course I forgive you. Now are you making that tea or not? Me throat’s as dry as a buzzard’s crutch!’
‘Oh, Dolly, that’s gross!’
Dolly laughed good-naturedly. ‘My old dad used to say his mouth felt like the inside of a Turkish wrestler’s jockstrap. Now that’s gross!’ Her voice was stronger now, like the old Dolly.
Donna chuckled as she prepared the tea, and felt as if she had won a small victory. She loved Dolly with all her heart and soul but lately it had occurred to her that they all treated her like she was made of fine china. It had never bothered her before, or had it?
Georgio had always made the decisions, down to
what cars they drove and what colours to decorate the house. He even insisted on planning the menus and ordering in the wines when they had people to dinner. Over the years she had come to resent his decision-making, especially when he organised a holiday, the destination, hotel and flights, without once consulting her. He even told her how her hair should be cut. She had suppressed these feelings but now they were surfacing. Donna had the distinct feeling that she was emerging from a cocoon, and smiled to herself at the metaphor. Donna Brunos, wife of Georgio Brunos, Testosterone King and Essex Man, is gradually tur n-ing into a person in her own right. Now for the rest of the News . . .
She laughed at her thoughts and Dolly grinned at her.
‘A penny for ’em?’
Donna put the mugs of tea on to the table and smiled. ‘They’re not worth a penny. Come and drink your tea.’
Lighting yet another cigarette, Dolly sat down. Taking off her slippers, she waggled her toes.
‘You were right, you know, Donna, with what you said just now. I know I treat you like a baby, but it’s the effect you have on people. You make them want to look after you.’
The smoke from her cigarette was making her eyes screw up and for a split second Donna saw Dolly as others must: a large-boned, blowsy woman, with ill-fitting false teeth and a permanent wave. She saw the short stubby fingers and the chipped nails. The lined face with heavy jowls, and the rolls of fat underneath her spotlessly clean apron. Donna felt a surge of affection for her.
‘Well, don’t look after me too much, Dolly. From now on me and you are equal in this house, OK?’
Dolly nodded and took a deep drag on her cigarette. ‘OK.’
She sipped her tea and grimaced as there wasn’t any sugar in it. As she added three large heaped teaspoonsful, she smiled at the thought of the men hidden in the grounds outside at this very moment.
Me and you might be equal, Donna my love, she thought, but as for looking after you - someone’s got to do it. Your old man’s left you in a position where you’d need looking after if you was the Devil himself.