The Jump

by Martina Cole

  Dolly grasped Donna’s hand, lying across her shoulder. ‘You’re like me own child, Donna. More to me, in fact.’ Her voice broke. ‘Since Georgio got caught, everything’s been so different. I’d give ten years off me life to have him walk in that front door now and kid around as usual. It’s all gone wrong, everything has changed, and I’m too old for change now. I’m too set in my ways.

  ‘I loved Georgio Brunos like me own, too,’ she said tearfully. ‘I love both of you, and I can see the rift coming now even if you can’t. Why would you go away to Scotland with Alan Cox, eh? Why him? Georgio had no business dealings with him, did he? Alan’s as straight as a die now.’

  Donna stared down on to Dolly’s grey head and the words ‘Georgio got caught’ and ‘Alan’s as straight as a die now’ whirled around inside her head. With stunning clarity she realised that Dolly, Paddy - all of them, even his mother - knew Georgio was guiltier than he had made out. From day one they were all aware of what he was up to. Everyone was, except her - his wife.

  She knelt down on the Italian tiles and made Dolly look into her face. ‘You knew he was guilty, didn’t you? You always knew.’

  Dolly gently stroked Donna’s cheek. ‘I never knew for certain, but I’ll tell you this much. Coming from where I do, and knowing what I know, Cockney boys don’t get all this through collar and sweat. Georgio was a wise man, and he used what he had to better himself, and while he was at it, he gave you the earth, girl. Remember that. Alan Cox is a cold-blooded murderer, you’d do well to keep that in mind when you’re dealing with him. He kicked and punched a man to death on a crowded street. It was a vicious, senseless killing. Don’t be too hard on Georgio when you can spend a weekend with the likes of Cox.’

  ‘I did not spend the weekend with him, Dolly! I went away on a business trip with him. Christ Almighty, Georgio had more women over the years than bloody Warren Beatty! If I had had an affair, which I didn’t, it would be nothing to what he’s done to me over the years.’

  Dolly smiled gently. ‘Oh it would, Donna. It would be much worse.’

  Donna sighed. ‘How do you make that out?’

  ‘Because you would be emotionally involved. Georgio was out shagging - there’s a difference. He only ever loved you, girl.’

  Donna shook her head in exasperation. ‘Oh Dolly, I suffer from the same blindness as you do. I only ever wanted Georgio, whatever he’s supposed to have done, real or imagined. In my heart I don’t really care. Stop worrying about Wonder Boy, he’ll be all right. He’ll always be all right. Especially while there’s women like us around to support him.’

  ‘And Alan Cox, what about him?’

  Donna shrugged. ‘What about him? He’s a man, a good-looking man, who committed, in your words, a cold-blooded, vicious murder. He is helping Georgio out now, and that’s all. Georgio knew I was going up to Scotland. Georgio knows everything.’ She nearly added: Thanks to you and Paddy, but stopped herself. If only Dolly knew how ruthless Georgio really was! Then it occurred to her that when she had finally realised how ruthless, selfish and self-involved he was, she herself had still loved him. Dolly would probably be the same.

  Dolly lit a cigarette, drawing the smoke deep into her lungs. ‘You’ve come so far, stood by him through so much, don’t let him down now, girl. He’s depending on you. I don’t know for certain what’s going on but I keep my eyes and ears open. If Georgio’s for the jump, then you make sure the jump is high enough and long enough to get him out of England. Now, shall I make us some fresh coffee?’

  Donna was not surprised to hear that Dolly had sussed out what was going down. Nothing surprised her any more.

  ‘You sit there, Doll, I’ll make it.’

  She went to the sink to fill the kettle and Dolly said quietly, ‘If I can help, you only have to ask, love. I’d do anything for that man. Anything.’

  Nick Carvello was fast asleep. Devoid of his outrageous make-up and outlandish clothes, he looked an altogether different person. He turned in the bed and cuddled up to the woman lying beside him. She stirred, snorting slightly, and settled into his arms. Opening one eye she said lazily, ‘It’s late afternoon, I have to be going soon.’

  Nick kissed her earlobe gently. ‘Make a cup of tea, Sandy, and I’ll drop you off at your mum’s.’

  The woman grinned, showing small white even teeth. She pushed a hand through her short black hair, fingernails bitten to the quick.

  ‘You’re a lazy sod, Nick.’

  He laughed, his eyes still closed. ‘I’m getting another hard-on, actually.’

  Sandy slipped from the bed. Her body was lean, small-breasted and compact. Not an ounce of spare fat anywhere. Nick watched her lazily. A few white lines above her pubic hair showed that she was a mother.

  ‘How’s the little fella?’

  Sandy stretched. ‘Growing like mad. I’ll bring him Friday if you like?’ Her voice was hopeful.

  Nick shook his head. ‘Bring some more photos, love. They’ll do.’

  Sandy pulled on a pair of jeans and a small crop top. ‘I’ll make the tea.’

  As she walked from the bedroom, Nick relaxed in the bed. His son was an anomaly to him. He loved the thought of his flesh and blood growing steadily somewhere, but he was afraid of seeing him in person. Frightened of getting too involved. He sat up in the bed and reached for his cigarettes.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  His front door was unceremoniously battered into the hallway by two men with sledgehammers. Before Nick could utter one word his bed was surrounded by men.

  He lit himself a cigarette and smiled sleepily. ‘Hello, JoJo, still like to make the odd entrance I see?’ His voice was once more pure camp, his body language effeminate.

  It didn’t fool any of the men around his bed. If you wanted to scare Nick Carvello, you came mob-handed.

  Nick looked the men over slowly, savouring their discomfort as he eyed their trousers longer than their faces.

  ‘What’s the matter then, boys? Liverpool been bombed, has it? Not before fucking time anyway. Don’t stand there like a cunt, JoJo, sit down and tell me what all this little show is all about. I’m beginning to get bored.’

  JoJo O’Neil, to the amazement of his paid muscle, sat on the bed and started laughing.

  Nick looked towards the bedroom door and grinned. ‘Hello, Albie love, come in and say hello.’

  The men looked towards the door and their faces paled. Albie, his tongueless mouth grinning, had a compact Uzi in his hands.

  Nick tapped JoJo’s face gently with his fingers. ‘Never underestimate a queer, JoJo. You of all people should know that. Now what do you want?’

  ‘I want to know everything you have on Georgio Brunos and Alan Cox. Your little mute friend don’t scare me, Nick.’

  He smiled lazily then nodded at Albie, who walked a few feet into the room and opened up two shots into the carpet by JoJo’s feet.

  ‘You should be scared, JoJo, you should be very scared, because I know everything that’s going down with you and Coyne and I think it stinks, personally. Albie, let him have one in the hand to teach him a lesson.’

  Albie shot JoJo’s hand. Three fingers were severed with the first shot. Two more shots hit him in the thighs.

  JoJo’s henchmen were silent and wary. All were armed and all were too intelligent to go for their equipment. Albie looked the nutter he was and they automatically respected that.

  Nick tutted loudly. ‘Listen to me carefully, boys. I want you to take this piece of shite out of my home, then I want you all back in Liverpool as soon as possible. If ever I get wind that any of you is within shitting distance of me again, there’ll be big trouble. Now take JoJo home. He’s bleeding all over me carpet and bedspread.’

  Five minutes later the flat was clear and Nick was sipping his tea in silence while Albie started to clear away the remains of the front door.

  Sandy shook her head sadly. ‘He’ll be back, Nick, with Jack Coyne in tow.’

  ‘No he won�
��t, love,’ Nick grinned. ‘He’s found out what he wanted to know, so don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Now I’d better get me make-up on, I have people to see today.’

  The conversation was closed.

  As she watched Nick fluttering around the flat she reasoned with herself about her feelings for him. No one, her mother especially, could understand her fascination with him. But they didn’t know the Nick she knew, the man in the dark of the night when he was himself. When he loved her body and her mind. He was more of a man than most of the so-called macho types.

  But only she knew that, and if she wanted to keep him, she had to keep the information to herself.

  And Sandy wanted to keep him.

  ‘Why did you let Albie shoot him?’ she asked.

  Nick smiled. ‘Because he’s a nonce, love, the same kind of nonce who cut out Albie’s tongue. Don’t feel any pity for JoJo O’Neil. I only wish Albie had shot his fucking balls off!’

  Sandy stilled the beating of her heart. ‘Shall I make you more tea?’

  Nick smiled at her lovingly. ‘Okey doke, love. I’ll have to get Skinny Bill round to clear this lot out. There’s more claret on my floor than at a Millwall at home game.’

  Sandy made the tea.

  Alan was surprised to see Anthony Calder sitting in Amigo’s at six-thirty. He had the delectable Sharon in tow and she’d settled herself at a table where she could get a good look at the waiters. Sharon was twenty-two, short, with big breasts and streaked blonde hair. Alan could see nothing about her good enough to marry, but Anthony was besotted with her. Alan put it down to the child. He worshipped the child, and therefore he worshipped the mother. It was his only blind spot. Sharon had a voice that could break glass and a laugh you would only expect on a Jimmy Jones video. She was ordering a double vodka for herself when Alan and Anthony went upstairs to the office. Once inside the office Anthony burst out laughing.

  Alan grinned. ‘What’s the joke?’

  ‘You know Nick’s Albie? He shot fucking JoJo O’Neil this afternoon. Straight up. Shot him in the hands and thighs. He’s lost three fingers and a lot of blood. Jack Coyne told me.’

  Alan’s eyes widened in wonderment. ‘You’re having me on?’

  Anthony laughed again. ‘Straight up. With a fucking Uzi and all, if you don’t mind. I knew there’d be conflict there, but fuck me, I never expected anything like this, did you?’

  Alan shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t, but like the advert says, I know a man who does.’

  ‘You don’t think Georgio . . .’ Anthony’s face clouded. ‘Why would he want to do that?’

  Alan poured out two small brandies and said quietly, ‘I know why, and believe me when I say I’d love to tell you, Ant, but I can’t. He’s used us to settle a score, but then that’s Georgio all over, ain’t it? I’ll fucking slaughter him for this. I should have sussed it from the first.’

  Anthony sipped his brandy. ‘What’s going down, Al? I have a right to know if I’m in on it and all.’

  Alan sighed. ‘It’s a long story. I only know the half of it myself, but I know enough to suss out the rest. If I could tell you, I would, but I can’t. I owe Georgio one, a big one, and he knows it. All I can assure you of is this: that will be the end of it. JoJo has had his warning, and he’ll heed it.’

  Anthony shook his head in bewilderment. ‘Do you honestly think Jack Coyne will swallow his best mucker being shot at? Are you off your fucking rocker? There’ll be murders up north. We won’t be able to set up a friendly game of football after this lot!’

  Alan held up his hand.

  ‘All I can say is, Nick knew the score. He owes Georgio one and all. He knew what was going down and he played the game. Jack Coyne will not be retaliating, because Jack knows the score, too. It will all settle down in a few days, I take oath on that.’

  ‘So what you’re saying is, Georgio used me and all?’

  ‘In a way, I suppose he did.’ Alan sighed heavily. ‘Look, Ant, if anyone should have the fucking tit and bump about it, it’s me. I should have seen it coming. So don’t you get the hump and all. That’s all we fucking need now! It’s over and done with, leave it at that.’

  Anthony Calder leant across Alan’s desk and said through his teeth: ‘You tell Georgio fucking Brunos that if he ever pulls a stunt like that again, Lewis won’t be in it when I fucking get going! I don’t like people using me for anything, especially not jumped-up bubbles from Canning Town who need me a damn sight more than I need them. I’m a fixer by trade, and if he wanted JoJo fixed I’d have sorted it for him. Properly, mind you. I don’t get personally involved in any of my deals. And you tell Georgio that if he ever steps on my toes again, I’ll rip his fucking head off and shove it where the sun don’t shine!’

  Alan grinned. ‘In those exact words, Ant? Only it’ll cost me a fortune to get a message like that inside. It’ll be bigger than his fucking court transcript!’

  Anthony laughed, but his heart wasn’t in it, they both knew why.

  ‘You know what I’m saying, Alan. Get it sorted. That could have caused hag for us all. I use Jack and JoJo a lot in my dealings, as I do Nick Carvello. I can’t afford them all to take umbrage with one another at this moment in time. Let’s face it, even I’m wary of Jack Coyne, and so are you if you’re truthful about it. He’s a bona fide nutcase.’

  Alan shrugged. ‘Jack Coyne and JoJo have had their day, believe me. Georgio was just warning them - through Nick. It’s a personal score he wanted settled.’

  Calder finished his brandy in thoughtful silence.

  ‘Listen, Alan, I’m a man of the world, you’re a man of the world . . . has this got anything to do with Georgio’s dealings abroad at all? I heard a whisper about them. Can I second guess from what I heard?’

  Alan shook his head. ‘I can only promise you this: when I can, I’ll tell you the lot.’

  He stared into Anthony’s eyes and the two men looked away simultaneously. Alan knew Calder had put two and two together and would no doubt soon be making the miraculous four.

  ‘I’d better get down to Sharon, she’ll be pissed otherwise. ’ Anthony stood up. ‘One last thing, Al. Why are you helping Georgio so much?’

  ‘For old time’s sake,’ Alan told him. ‘He done me a right favour when I was banged up inside, a favour you have to repay. Without him, I wouldn’t have had a lot to come out for, you know.’

  Anthony nodded. ‘I never really liked Georgio,’ he confessed. ‘I never trusted him. I don’t know why, he never did anything to me personally, like - it was just a gut feeling. I’ve got that feeling now.’

  Alan stood up and looked into his friend’s face.

  ‘Remember this, Ant. It’s me who’s paying for everything, so keep that in mind. The favours are for me: not Georgio Brunos. Remember that won’t you?’

  Anthony nodded. At the door he turned and said gently, ‘Make sure Georgio knows how I feel about what went down. Make sure he knows that whoever’s paying don’t mean a flying fuck when he puts my contacts on the line like that, OK?’

  ‘I’ll tell him, Anthony. Don’t worry. By the way, the meal’s on me. Enjoy yourself.’

  Anthony shook his head. ‘Thanks all the same, Al, but unlike Georgio Brunos, I pay me own way. See you soon.’

  Alan watched him leave the room, and inside felt the balloon of anger welling up.

  Georgio had managed to poison a friendship Alan had nurtured for years. Anthony Calder would not trust him for a long time to come and it galled him.

  Because of the two of them, Anthony and Georgio, he preferred Calder any day of the week.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Donna drove past the car lot on her way to Maeve’s. As she glanced towards the forecourt she was amazed to see Stephen Brunos and Davey Jackson loading boxes into the back of a white Ford transit van. Parking her car, she walked back towards the forecourt and quietly went over to the two men.

  ‘Hello, Stephen, Davey. Thought I’d pop in and see if
the insurance has been paid out yet.’

  Davey dropped the box he was lifting on to the concrete and turned to face her.

  ‘Hello, Donna love, all right? Come inside and I’ll make us a cup of coffee. Fill you in on everything.’ He glanced over his shoulder at Stephen. ‘You’ll be all right here, won’t you?’

  ‘Course I will. You two get inside. I’ll ring you later, Davey.’ He carried on loading the boxes.

  ‘What are they?’ Donna’s voice was high. ‘I mean, what’s in the boxes?’

  Davey shook his head ruefully. ‘Believe me when I say you don’t want to know, love. Just a bit of hookey gear we’re shifting for a friend.’

  She frowned, and as Davey went to take her arm, she shrugged him off. Even Davey was surprised at the action.

  ‘Hookey gear - hidden on my car lot, with insurance people crawling all over the place? Hardly an intelligent act, is it? What kind of stuff is it anyway?’

  Stephen placed another box in the van and turned towards Donna, his face dark with anger.

  ‘Listen, Donna, this is fuck all to do with you, love. Now go inside and have a cup of coffee, and keep your big nose out of this, all right?’

  She felt the heat burning in her cheeks as she flushed with embarrassment.

  ‘Don’t you speak to me like that, Stephen Brunos. I’ve taken just about all I can from you over the last few months . . .’

  Stephen sighed dramatically. He looked at Davey.

  ‘How my brother swallowed this nosy bitch breathing down his neck I don’t know. Well, listen to me, Donna, you have no right to know anything, get that? Anything. So get back in your car, and get back to your own businesses. Go and play at grown ups if you want, but not with me, all right? Can you get a simple message like that or shall I put it in simpler words still? Piss off!’

  As he turned back towards the van, Davey Jackson grabbed him by the arm and spun him round.

  ‘Don’t you talk to her like that, Stephen. I won’t have it, and your brother wouldn’t either if he was here.’

  Stephen laughed nastily. ‘Oh, my Gawd, don’t tell me you want to get your hands up her skirts and all. By Christ, Donna, you’ve never had it so good, have you? Wait until I tell Georgio this one. Not content with swanning off to Scotland with Cilla Black’s answer to a good blind date, you’re sweet-talking fucking Davey Jackson. Well, look out for Carol, love. She’ll eat you for breakfast and spit out the bones.’