by Anna King
‘D’yer know what you’re asking me to do, Cathy?’ His voice was little more than a whisper as they locked eyes. ‘That last block of flats is little more than a death trap, and for turning a blind eye, I took a hundred pounds. Mind you, we ’ad a good time on that money, didn’t we? And ’ow long did it last, eh? Two days – two lousy days, ’cos you was determined to spend it all, weren’t yer? Well, I’ll tell yer now, I won’t be doing any more of Hunter’s dirty work, not for any amount. ’Cos it’s blood money. Now yer might be able to live with that knowledge, but I can’t.’
Cathy’s eyes never wavered. No one watching her would ever have known the emotions that were flooding through her, or the hurt she was experiencing. She’d lost him. She could see it in his eyes. The Rory she had manipulated for so long had gone, and he wasn’t coming back.
Rory too was fighting with his emotions, praying for the strength to walk away from the woman who had wrought havoc with his life. Because of her, and his own weakness and stupidity, he was now shunned by everyone he knew and loved. The crew hadn’t bothered to hide their feelings. Rory had gone from being one of the men to someone to be avoided whenever possible. And not only had he lost the trust and friendship of his workmates, but also the respect of his family. Except his mum, of course! And even she was wavering. He could see it in her eyes, feel the way she shied away from contact with him, and that had hurt him more than he had thought humanly possible.
The silence in the room was deafening, and Rory had a sudden wild desire to run, run fast and not look back.
Cathy stared hard into the blue eyes, desperately trying to find some softening in them, but all she could see was a man wanting to be gone from her presence. Then her head went up defiantly. No man, not even Rory, could ever intimidate her. If the relationship was over, it was she who would have the last word.
‘Why should I worry about people I’ve never met, nor ever will? You think I’m hard; well, maybe I am, but I’m not going to apologise for the way I am. What’s the point in getting sentimental? It doesn’t get you anywhere; I’ve learned that the hard way.’
Rory’s body sagged with relief. With those indifferent words Cathy had sounded her own death knell. It was over, finally over. He was free of her at last. Pulling on his cap, he said, ‘I’m sorry it had to end this way, but I’m sure yer won’t ’ave any trouble getting another mug to take me place. Goodbye, Cathy.’
As he opened the door, Cathy scrambled across the bed. Leaning on her elbows, she shouted scathingly, ‘You’re right enough there. In fact I can think of one not very far from here who’d be only too pleased to have me back.’
Rory turned slowly, his eyes filled with contempt.
‘Yeah, you’re probably right. He was never short of a few bob, but now, according to gossip, he’s practically rolling in it. So you go and see Hobbs, and I wish yer luck. Neither of you give a damn about anyone but yourselves; you’re well suited. Yer never know, he might even marry yer. You’d be set for life then, wouldn’t yer? Then again, Hobbs is no mug, not like me, he—’
‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong, mister know-it- all. He can’t marry me, no one can, ’cos I’m already married. Jonathan and me got hitched a month after we left this dreary hole.’ Her voice had risen to a screech of fury, wanting only to hurt Rory, to make him feel as worthless and dirty as she felt now.
Rory’s hand tightened on the doorknob. He was stunned, unable to believe his ears. He turned to face her for the last time, and what he saw sickened him to the very pit of his stomach. For the lovely face he had worshipped since the first time he had clapped eyes on her was now twisted with hate, and the sight was ugly to behold.
‘Remember all those times when yer begged me to marry yer? Do you?’ Holding her hands together as if in prayer, she mimicked, ‘Marry me, Cathy. Marry me, darling, I’ll take care of you. Gawd, what a joke that was. I don’t know how I stopped meself from laughing in your stupid face.’
Shaking his head, Rory left her lying on the bed, still shouting obscenities after him.
He closed the door quietly. Once out on the landing, he took a deep breath, then expelled the air from his lungs. He was at a loss as to what had happened. He should be gutted; instead he felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
Anxious now to get away, he hurried down the stairs and headed for home. He had a lot of bridges to build. He only hoped and prayed he hadn’t left it too late.
* * *
‘Telegram for you, sir.’
Matthew Hunter was in one of the state rooms aboard the cruise ship, a small brandy in his hand. Taking the proffered telegram from the ship’s steward, he looked down at it, puzzled as to who would want to contact him. Certainly not his son. That lazy beggar hadn’t even tried to pretend he was sorry to see his father go. He had been infuriated when he’d learned that his father had left written instructions transferring the running of the business to Pat Flynn. Matthew’s lips twitched as he recalled the look on his son’s face. Robert had fully expected to be left in charge, even knowing what his father thought of him; the boy wasn’t only useless, he was stupid as well.
Thanking the steward, he opened the telegram. And what he read brought him sharply to his feet.
Downing the brandy in one go, he went off in search of his wife.
Chapter Twenty
‘Can I ’ave a word, Pat?’
Pat was standing by the small window of the hut overlooking the site.
‘Yer can ’ave as many as yer like, but I don’t think you’d like any of ’em.’
Unperturbed by his brother’s terse attitude, Rory stepped inside.
‘Give us a chance, bruv. It’s bad enough me mates are making me feel as welcome as a fart in their dinner, without me own family turning on me.’
‘If you’ve come looking for a shoulder to cry on, you’ve come to the wrong man. But while yer ’ere, I might as well tell yer you won’t ’ave to work alongside me after today, ’cos I’m ’anding in me notice. It’s bad enough I’ve gotta live with that last block of jerry-built flats, but I ain’t gonna help line that snotty-nosed git’s wallet on the next building. Not that he’ll be bothered. Why should he, when he’s got you in his pocket? Until Mister Hunter comes back I’ll get another job. I ain’t fussy what I do. Even if I ’ave to sweep the roads, at least I’ll be able to sleep nights. And I still ain’t sure it wasn’t Robert Hunter who put someone up to beat the shit outta me. But if I ever find out for sure, his own mother won’t recognise the bastard when I’m through with ’im.’
Rory rested his body against the desk, his arms folded.
‘You’d ’ave to get past his bodyguards first, but I reckon between the two of us we wouldn’t ’ave any trouble; that’s if yer could stand ’aving me in your corner. I ’ope so, ’cos I reckon I’ll be sweeping the streets with yer. In fact, knowing how Dad and Shaun feel, we could set up our own business.’
Rory saw Pat start, and with the movement came a slight relaxation of his taut body; but he made no gesture of acknowledgement. Encouraged, Rory pressed on.
‘I’ve been a blasted fool, Pat, and I’ll ’ave to live with what I’ve done, but I’ve gotta feeling old Mister Hunter will be cutting ’is holiday short.’
Now he had his brother’s attention. Turning from the window, Pat faced him.
‘What d’yer mean?’
Rory smiled and tapped his nose in the gesture he always used when pleased with himself.
‘Let’s just say he might ’ave received a telegram telling ’im what his precious son’s been up to.’
Pat’s mouth hung open, his eyes stretched wide.
‘You’re joking, ain’t yer?’
‘Nope.’
He grinned, and Pat knew the old Rory was back. Excitement etched on his face, Pat asked, ‘But how d’yer find out what ship he’s on? Even I didn’t know that.’
Again Rory tapped the side of his nose.
‘I ’ave me ways,’ he said
mysteriously. ‘Nah! It wasn’t that difficult. I just went to a couple of the shipping line offices and asked around. Luckily a girl was very obliging. I told her Mister Hunter’s name and the day him and his missus sailed, and she gave me the name of the ship. Lucky I’m so irresistible to women, ain’t it? It wouldn’t ’ave been any use you going, not with your ugly mug.’ He ducked as Pat took a playful swing at him. ‘Anyway, after that it was plain sailing – excuse the pun. I sent the telegram off first thing Monday morning. That’s why I was late for work. D’yer remember? Yer gave me a right bollocking.’
Pat’s face became sheepish.
‘Yeah, I did, didn’t I?’
The brothers stared at each other with affection.
‘Friends again, Pat?’ Rory asked.
Pat threw out his hand and Rory grabbed it tight.
‘Yeah, yer soppy git. At least until the next time we fall out.’
Rory heaved a sigh of relief. The rift between himself and Pat was over.
Then Pat, his voice awkward, asked, ‘What about Cathy Meadows? She ain’t gonna be very pleased, is she? I mean, with you being outta a job for a while. Or has she gone back home again?’
Rory let go of Pat’s hand, and turned his face away.
‘It’s over. I finally saw what everyone else did under the surface. She…’ He stopped, his head bent. ‘Look, I don’t wanna talk about it right now, all right,
Pat? Maybe in a few weeks, or months…’ He gave a low laugh, but there was pain in the sound. ‘Maybe never. But it’s definitely over between us. I ended it on Saturday. But I’ll say this for Cathy, she doesn’t ’ang about. Word is she’s already got Barney Hobbs in ’er bed; it’s a wonder yer ’aven’t ’eard. The gossipmongers ’ave been ‘aving a field day, and I don’t think I’ve come outta it very well. Not that I’m surprised. Truth is, I don’t know whether to be jealous of the geezer or sorry for him. Still, he’s got plenty of money to keep her ’appy. And even Cathy won’t be able to go through the amount he’s got.’ He didn’t mention the fact that Cathy was married; that would have been too much of a humiliation for him to take.
Pat patted Rory’s shoulder sympathetically.
‘I’m sorry, mate. Not because of her, but ’cos I don’t like to see yer hurt.’ He saw the pain in Rory’s eyes and asked quietly, ‘D’yer still love her?’
Rory shrugged and turned away.
‘To tell the truth, Pat, I’m not sure. I know it’s hurting like hell, but I don’t know if it’s because I’ve lost her, or ’cos I’m feeling sorry for meself… Look, let’s drop it, eh? We’ve got more important things to think about – like those flats. We can’t let people move into them, Pat, they’re death traps.’
Pat rubbed the back of his neck, his movements agitated.
‘What d’yer think I’ve been thinking about these past few days? But what can we do? The new tenants are moving in on Monday; that only leaves the weekend. What the hell can we do in that time?… ’Ang on. If you sent that telegram on Monday… Nah.’ He shook his head in frustration. ‘Even if he got it the same day, Mister Hunter still wouldn’t be able to get back by then – not unless he sprouts wings and flies.’
‘I’ve thought about that. It all depends on where the ship was when he got the message. If it was still at sea, then he won’t get back in time. But if it had docked, he could’ve boarded another ship back to England. For all we know he might be on his way back right now.’
‘And he might not get back for another few weeks. We haven’t got time to wait.’
Rory thought hard. He’d already come up with a way to prevent the shoddy flats being moved into, but would Pat be prepared to take such drastic measures? There was only one way to find out.
‘We don’t ’ave to. What if we knocked ’em down? They couldn’t be moved into then, could they?’
Pat swung round, his mind already in tune with his brother. They locked eyes for what seemed an eternity, then he said sharply, ‘Well, what we waiting for? They went up easy enough. It shouldn’t take much to knock ’em down. Not with the entire workforce lending a hand. Let’s go and ask the men, see what they think.’
* * *
Pat and Rory stood in the narrow doorway of the hut watching the crew clearing away the last of the debris. Normally, when a job was completed, this task was performed with good humour and high spirits, and most of all a sense of pride for a job well done. But today they worked quietly, their faces grim. Pat had paid off Hunter’s navvies yesterday; the men left were all of his own crew.
‘Stop work a minute, will yer? Me and Rory’s got something ter ask yer.’
The men stopped what they were doing and began walking towards the hut. When they were all gathered, Pat’s eyes flitted from one man to another. Then he cleared his throat and addressed them.
‘Me and Rory’s had an idea. None of us are ’appy with the way things have turned out, but it ain’t too late to do something about it.’
The men looked at each other, their grimy faces bewildered, before turning back to listen to what their gaffer was saying.
‘We all know that last block of flats ain’t fit to live in. We did the best we could, but it ain’t good enough. Now, you’ve all been paid, and this is your last day on this site, but me and Rory ain’t gonna leave until those death traps ’ave been pulled down.’
Now he had the men’s full attention. They all started to speak at once and Pat had to hold his hand up for silence. The talking died down slowly, then Paddy and Shaun stepped forward, and it was Paddy who asked, ‘What exactly are ye saying, son?’
Pat grinned, but it was Rory who spoke.
‘D’yer remember when we were kids, Dad? And me, Pat and Shaun used to build ’ouses outta pebbles and stones, and when we’d finished we’d knock ’em down?… Well! How d’yer fancy doing it for real?’
There was a moment’s silence at the enormity of what their gaffer was asking them to do. They could be arrested for destroying property, or at the very least blacklisted from ever working on a building site again. It was an enormous decision to make, and yet there wasn’t a man among them who hadn’t thought of doing exactly what their gaffer was asking.
Pat could understand their mixed feelings, and he didn’t blame them. Worse still, they had put them on the spot, and that hadn’t been fair.
‘It’s all right, lads, and you, Dad. I shouldn’t ’ave asked. You finish up ’ere then get off ’ome. I won’t think any the worse of yer. You’re a good bunch, the best I’ve ever worked with. Yer built those flats ’cos yer ’ad no choice. If there’s any blame to be laid, it’s down to me and Rory for knuckling under to that jumped-up little toerag Hunter. So, like I said, it’s mine and Rory’s fault they were built; it’s up to us to make sure they’re never lived in.’
Nodding his head at the silent men, Pat strode past them, Rory at his side. Stopping only long enough to pick up the heavy tools they would need, they headed towards the last block of flats. They hadn’t gone more than a few yards when they heard Paddy shout, ‘Hold your horses, lads, I’m not after letting you two have all the fun.’
‘Nor me.’ Shaun stood beside his father, his homely face lit up with pleasure at the sight of Rory and Pat united again. The rest of the men followed, tools in hand, ready to demolish the jerry-built flats they’d all had nightmares about.
‘Well, don’t just stand there, yer lazy bleeders.’ Pat grinned. ‘Let’s get started’.
Entering the end building, the men climbed to the top floor.
‘Right then, let’s get to work. We’ll start with the windows, then the outer walls… You listening,
Jimmy?’ Pat asked the youngest of his crew. ‘Whatever yer do, don’t touch the inner walls; those are the ones holding up the building.’
The young man smiled sheepishly.
‘I know, guv. I ain’t that stupid.’
‘I bleeding ’ope so, mate. Now, we can’t knock ’em down completely, otherwise the roof and floors’ll go an
d us with them. But we can do enough damage so that they’ll be impossible to live in. Once we’ve finished with each floor, we’ll knock down the stairs as we go. Now, I’ll just say one more thing before we start. If any of yer are ’aving second thoughts, walk away now. Nobody will blame yer.’
His eyes swept around the eight-man crew, looking for any sign of weakening, but he found none.
‘Right then. One more thing…’ He paused. ‘’As gaffer, I’m entitled to the first whack.’
So saying, he swung the hammer at one of the outer walls, his face tightening as the brittle bricks crumpled with the first blow. Turning his head, he stared over his shoulder and saw the same look on the face of each man present. If those bricks had been solid it would have taken more than a whack with a hammer to knock them down.
Without a word the men set to work. It took the entire crew only fifteen minutes to demolish the top-floor two-roomed flat. Once down on to the next floor, they set about smashing the stairs, thus cutting off any remaining access to the top floor. As they made their way downwards, their progress became slower, knowing only too well that with the damage they had done, the entire building was now dangerously unstable.
With only three floors to go, Pat called a halt.
‘That’s it for you lot,’ he said breathlessly. ‘It’s too dangerous now for all of us to be inside. Me and Rory will finish off the last three.’ He put out his hand, shaking with each man in turn. ‘Thanks for the ’elp, lads. You get off ’ome now. There’s bound to be some nosy parker watching, so the law might be ’ere soon. And if they do arrive, I don’t want any of you lot ’anging around. As far as anyone knows, none of you had anything to do with any of this.’
The men shuffled around, wanting to stay until the job was completed, yet worried they could be arrested if the law did suddenly turn up. One by one they drifted off, but only to the pub across the road. None of them were going home until the Flynns were safely off the site.
‘Be careful, lads. Sure if anything happened to either one of ye, your mother would have me head on a plate.’ Paddy stood outside, his lined face etched with worry.