by Martina Cole
Donna smiled. ‘So that’s what Talkto is. How does the setup work?’
Stephen shrugged. ‘You phone an 0898 number, you listen to a recorded message. The calls can last anything up to ten minutes. They supply leaflets etc, you leave your phone number and we send them on.’
Donna sipped her coffee. ‘I see.’
Stephen picked up his own coffee and said acidly, ‘Nothing illegal about that, is there?’
Donna frowned. ‘I never suggested there was, Stephen. I just wanted to know exactly what my name is being used for. I don’t think you or Georgio give me credit for even a few brains in my head. I find my name is being used for all sorts and neither of you thinks I have a right to be informed. I have already had this out with Georgio and now I’m having it out with you. If I am to run these businesses properly then I need to know what’s going on.’
Stephen interrupted her. ‘You’re not running this business! You’re nothing but a sleeping partner. Georgio put up an amount of money in your name. You have no say in running it, Donna.’
‘I have the right to see the paperwork though, and I want to see it this weekend, as arranged.’
‘You’ll get all the relevant information, Donna, don’t worry.’
‘But I’m not worried, Stephen. It’s you who seems worried.’
He stood up. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’m very busy, Donna.’
She stood up too and walked to the door. Opening it, she saw another girl sitting outside waiting to be interviewed. The girl was small, with backcombed black hair and heavy make-up. She wore a tight red Lycra dress and high heels. She was chewing gum loudly.
‘Another favour for a friend, Stephen?’ Donna’s eyebrows rose as she spoke.
He watched her as she walked from the office. His breath was coming fitfully, so great was his temper.
Carmel carried on with her phone call, seemingly unaware of the atmosphere around her.
Donna drove out of London and on to the A13 bound for home. She was going to go through Georgio’s office with a fine-tooth comb, and then tomorrow she would visit him fully primed. Before she agreed to his newest scheme she wanted to know everything that was going on. It seemed she had been a fool over the years, and in a way she didn’t blame Georgio for keeping her in the dark.
She had been like a child in a lot of respects. He looked after her, patted her on the head when she’d been a good girl, and gave her a present when the fancy took him. For her part she had allowed this treatment of herself and now she was wondering why.
Why the hell had she allowed herself to be treated so shabbily? Why hadn’t she done something about it - asserted herself before now? Her husband was in prison doing eighteen years, their lives were destroyed, his businesses were going down the pan, and she had known nothing, nothing at all. She had not even guessed that something was wrong.
Was it because she was so frightened of him casting her aside if she pried? She knew he had cultivated Harry Robertson and the others because they were on the Council, and Harry dealt with Planning. But somehow that didn’t really seem illegal because everyone they knew was doing it and they paid their taxes. What was the difference?
Now she was finding out so much about her husband, and none of it was good.
Stephen’s offices in Soho were for prostitutes, but hadn’t she known that deep down long ago? Hadn’t she guessed that, and shrugged it off? Stephen’s business was his business.
That had always been the way. Donna had never pried and now she was sorry. Sorry because she was finding it out all at once and it was killing a little bit of her every day.
All she wanted was Georgio home, back in her bed, his arms around her and the knowledge that he’d be there all the time.
She would do anything to gain that end. Anything.
In a way she felt responsible for Georgio and what happened to him. If she had stood beside him as a wife should, as Carol Jackson did with Davey, maybe he wouldn’t have got so deeply involved in everything. The hotels that died a death in Asia, and the Talkto business. She wasn’t stupid, she knew exactly what those phone lines were for. She had known as soon as she saw Stephen’s name alongside her own, because he had always dealt in women, his mother knew that and she knew that, though it was never actually discussed.
It was the old story. If you didn’t talk about it then it had never happened.
Like her life with Georgio, in fact.
Don’t ask your husband what he’s been doing because he just might tell you, then you’d have to do something about it. Well, she was going to do something about it. Twenty years too late maybe, but she’d do something anyway.
Because the one thing she wanted now, more than anything, was to have her husband back beside her.
Tomorrow she would talk to him properly, and then give him her final answer. She had a feeling she was going to do whatever he asked. After all, why break the habit of a lifetime?
She had given him twenty years of her life, and could not imagine giving herself to anyone else. He was hers, right or wrong. Hers.
He was all she had, and she loved him with a ferocity that startled her it was so strong.
She knew now that no matter what he did, she would forgive him, as she had over the years forgiven him his women, his separate lifestyle, and his periodic neglect of her.
He was the only man she had ever really wanted, the only man to share her bed, and the only man she could love.
No matter what he did, he was hers, and she would move heaven and earth to keep it that way.
Chapter Thirteen
Paddy watched as the girl gyrated around the stage. Her cosmetically-enlarged breasts looked even more false in the harsh lights. As she bent towards him they hung down from her ribcage like two lumps of cement. Paddy sighed in boredom. Her face was angelic and he wondered if her father knew what she did for a living, and if he knew, whether he cared.
He glanced at his watch and frowned. Stephen was cutting it fine. Sipping his scotch he watched the girl once more, her swivelling hips making him want to laugh. Instead he looked around him at the men in the club. All were middle-aged, all had the shining expectant eyes of perverts, and all had half of bitter in front of them. He saw Stephen walk in at the club doorway and sat back in his seat. He hated these places; they were depressing and the odour of cheap perfume and male sweat made him feel queasy.
Stephen slipped into the seat beside him. Ignoring the girl on the stage, he said peremptorily: ‘Did you know Danny Simmonds was murdered last night?’ He was gratified at Paddy’s look of shock.
‘You’re joking!’
‘I’m not, Paddy. He was burnt alive in his car outside his bird’s flat. You know his boy was run over, don’t you?’
Paddy nodded. ‘A crying shame that. I never had much time for Simmonds meself as you know, but the lad was nothing to do with any of it. Lewis is getting out of hand.’
Stephen sighed. ‘That’s Frankie White, Peter Wilson and Danny Simmonds. All brown bread. All that’s left of the blaggers now is Georgio, and unlike the others he wasn’t there. Lewis wants all the dosh, and you know the worst of it, don’t you? Frankie and Danny are only dead because Georgio wouldn’t tell Lewis where he hid it.’
Paddy sipped at his drink and shrugged. ‘Well, I’m sorry, Stephen, but I’m not going to lose any sleep over them. What’s done is done.’
‘Well, don’t you think my brother should tell that bastard Lewis where the dosh is?’
Paddy laughed harshly. ‘No, actually, I don’t. It’s his only insurance, isn’t it? Once he opens his mouth about it, then he follows them to hell.’
Stephen watched the girl as she picked up her few scraps of clothing and left the stage.
‘I wish I knew where Georgio had stashed the money, don’t you?’ He looked straight into Paddy’s eyes and Paddy returned his gaze without blinking.
‘No, I don’t. And I’ll give you a bit of advice, Stephen. You’re Georgio’s brother and he loves you,
but like me, he can see right through you.’ And Paddy watched as Stephen’s face hardened.
A plump woman came on to the stage in a tight red satin basque. She would never see forty-five again, and as the strains of ‘Ma, He’s Making Eyes at Me’ blared out of the loudspeaker, Paddy stood up to leave. Leaning closer to Stephen, he winked and said, ‘Now this one is much more your cup of tea, eh? Old enough to be your mother.’
Laughing loudly, he walked from the smoky club, leaving Stephen fuming, not because of what Paddy had said about the stripper but because he had been foolish enough to come out into the open.
Settling back in his seat he watched the woman’s act until the end. Then he left the club as unobtrusively as possible.
Chapter Fourteen
Dolly looked into the room Georgio used as his office and tutted loudly. ‘Did you find what you were looking for last night?’
Donna was walking down the stairs. ‘I’ll clear it all up when I get back later,’ she promised.
Dolly flapped a hand. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll clear it up for you after breakfast.’
‘I’d really rather you left it alone, Dolly. I want to put the stuff back myself so I can make some rhyme and reason out of it, all right? Thanks anyway for offering.’
Dolly nodded, bewildered. ‘Whatever you like, love. My, you look beautiful. You’ll knock your man’s eyes out. New, is it?’
Donna smiled. ‘I bought it a while ago and never wore it. I thought I’d give it an airing today. How did you know I was going to see Georgio again?’
Dolly walked through to the kitchen. ‘Oh, Maeve mentioned it when she rang. Why? Is it a big secret or something?’
Donna found herself getting annoyed. ‘No, it’s just I wondered how you knew, that’s all. It seems to me lately that everyone knows everything about me before I do.’
Dolly faced her and said gently, ‘You need a rest, darlin’, to get away for a bit. You’re getting paranoid about everything.’
‘And where do you suggest I go, Dolly?’ Donna sighed. ‘Or haven’t you and Maeve sorted that out yet?’ Even as she spoke, Donna was aware how unfair she was being. She put her arms around Dolly’s waist and said, ‘Oh, I’m sorry. But I’ve got a lot on my mind lately. I hate all this constant questioning, you see. You never wanted to know so much before.’
Dolly hugged her back, thinking: You never had Lewis hanging over you before - but she kept her own counsel.
‘I worry about you, ducks.’
‘I know you do, but I’m a grown woman and I can look after myself. Now I must go - I’ll see you later. If Davey rings or Paddy, tell them they can get me on my mobile.’
‘Okey doke. Give your man all my love, won’t you?’
Donna smiled. ‘Of course I will.’
Five minutes later she pulled out of her drive, unaware of the black Sierra that followed her.
Donna noted the looks she gathered as she walked into the visiting room at Parkhurst. Taking a seat at a small table, she observed the families around her. Children played with their fathers while their mothers looked on. Women visiting sons stared around them in bewilderment, as if wondering what they were doing there. Prisoners watched their wives with interest, drinking in the sights and sounds of their families. A man nearby bounced a young child on his knee as he chatted to his family; he could have been anywhere, the casual way he was acting. As if being in this prison environment was natural. Which she supposed it was, to a majority of the men.
A slim young man, effeminate-looking, walked over to her.
‘Hello, my name’s Albert but they call me Sadie. You’re Donna Brunos, aren’t you?’
She nodded. ‘How do you do.’
‘I know your husband Georgio. He shares a cell with a friend of mine, Timmy. I expect he’s mentioned him?’
Donna nodded, unable to decide how to treat the young man before her.
‘I just wanted to say I love your suit, dear. The blue colour brings out your eyes. You should always wear suede. You can carry it off, love, you’re so thin, see, and that short skirt shows off your legs perfectly. What is it? Italian?’
Donna nodded wordlessly.
‘I thought so. Lovely hand with suede and leather, the Eyeties. Well, I’d better get back to me visitor. Nice meeting you anyway.’
‘Nice meeting you as well.’ She smiled at him as he sat back down with his visitor, an elderly man in a business suit.
She was grateful to see Georgio being led in, and stood up and waved.
Georgio’s face was a study in pleasure as he saw who his visitor was. Rushing over to Donna, he kissed her hard on the lips for two minutes until a screw called out: ‘All right, Brunos, that’s enough. You ain’t got conjugal visits yet, mate.’
Donna felt her face go scarlet at his words.
‘It’s so good to see you, darling. I’ve missed you so much.’ As they sat down he grasped her hand tightly. ‘You’re the only woman I know who still blushes. Nowadays the girls are too knowing by half. It’s one of your most endearing qualities. You look fantastic, Donna. That suit’s a bit near the mark though, ain’t it?’
Donna was pleased to see the jealous look on his face. ‘I rather like it myself.’
Georgio grinned. ‘So does every old lag in here, by the looks of it! You’re beautiful, Donna. I know I never told you that often enough but I always thought it, Donna, I swear.’
She felt her lips trembling as she looked into his face. He was so handsome, this husband of hers.
‘I’m sorry about the other day,’ he went on. ‘You were right in all you said. But I never wanted you to worry, you’ve got to believe that. I always only wanted you to have the best. I was foolish, I know, getting involved with everything. But I never dreamt it would all go sour, not for a moment.’
Donna smiled sadly. ‘I know about Talkto, Georgio, I know about everything.’
He stared into her face. ‘I never actually had anything to do with Talkto . . .’
Donna cut him off. ‘I know that, Stephen explained it all to me. If, and it’s a big if, I am going to help you, Georgio, you must be honest with me.’
He felt his heart lift at her words.
‘I always knew inside that you were not exactly kosher, as you would put it. Over the years I guessed a lot, even if I never actually put my thoughts into words. You’re my husband, and I love you. I’ve always loved you, Georgio. Even after all this.’ She held out her arms in supplication. ‘I still love you.’
Georgio’s eyes were filled with tears. ‘I’ve always loved you, baby, you know that.’
Donna nodded. ‘This Lewis, how much danger are you in from him?’
Georgio shrugged. ‘A lot. As I told you, he wasted Wilson. He owns everyone in here - the screws, the cons, everyone. He sank a lot of money abroad with me, and now he thinks I’ve tucked him up. I tell you, Donna, no one could get me out of here legally. He’s already told me that I have no chance of appeal. He thinks it’s all a big joke. I’ve told him some old cock and bull story about locating his money and paying it back, which is keeping him sweet for the moment, but I’ll never be able to raise the kind of sum he wants. Even if we sold the house and all we own.’
‘Has he really got that much sway?’
Georgio laughed bitterly. ‘Look, Donna, most people have no idea about what’s going on in this country. Lewis can get a motion tabled in the Commons if he wants to. It seems everyone is for sale one way or another and he knows exactly how much they cost. He has been running his different businesses for years. They only got him on fraud charges. They can’t prove nothing else as he’s got powerful friends. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he upped and walked out of here one day with a pardon. If you can buy one, then Lewis can afford it.
‘Everyone is afraid of him here,’ he went on, ‘everyone. And it’s nothing to be ashamed of either, because hardened criminals are scared of him. You don’t know what it’s like in here, love. It’s the pits, believe me. Lewis even has
his food specially cooked for him. He has more privileges than the bloody governor!
‘Yesterday they gang-raped a young lad who was in on a child-sex case. He’d raped a five-year-old girl. Lewis saw to it that he was hurt. The men respect him for that. These are the kind of people you’re dealing with. The lad’s cell will be burnt out later on tonight when he comes back from the hospital wing. These men are the scum of the earth and Lewis is in charge of them. He has henchmen who’d torture you just for a laugh, for something to do. Lewis himself is a violent personality who enjoys inflicting pain. It’s like living in a nightmare, Don Don. I have to escape from it. That is the only way I’ll ever get out of here, short of being carried out in a box.’
Donna licked her dry lips, her face a mask of disbelief. ‘But how will we get you out?’
Georgio grinned. ‘I have an old mate, Alan Cox, who owes me a favour. We go back a long time. Alan was once like Lewis, although he didn’t do things for fun. If Alan hurt someone, it was for a reason, and they were all in the game. Like an occupational hazard, if you like. If you go to see him, he’ll help us, I know he will. But you must keep it to yourself. Don’t even tell Stephen - don’t tell anyone what you’re doing. That’s the best way. The fewer people who know the better. Lewis has a long arm and big ears, darlin’, and he’s dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt.’
‘What does this Alan do now?’
‘He runs a nightclub up West,’ Georgio told her, ‘and a couple of restaurants. He was put away for murder, did his time, kept his head down and got out. He didn’t want to go back to the hag of the life so he retired.’
Donna’s eyes widened. ‘Who did he murder?’