by Martina Cole
She opened the doors that led out into the gardens and sat at the table she had found with Angus, many years ago, in Cornwall. They had paid a fortune to have it delivered, and the day it had arrived she had been beside herself with excitement. Angus had been working, as usual, but that had not bothered her. She had made sure that her Angus didn’t impinge on her life too much.
She had prided herself that that was why they were still together, after all these years. She had allowed him his freedom, and he had left her with the children and the house, and she had been quite content. Now, of course, she had a grandchild to look forward to and, despite the circumstances, she was thrilled by the prospect.
She sipped her wine and tried to picture the new child. If it was a boy, she hoped it looked like her Angus, because he had been a beautiful child. Everyone had admired him, even strangers. He had been a good baby too; he had hardly cried, and she had enjoyed looking after him. She wished they had all stayed babies – her life would have been so much easier.
She walked through the kitchen and opened another bottle of Pinot and, after she had refilled her glass, she walked around her house again. She had removed every picture of her eldest son, along with anything that he had owned or contributed to the house, including childhood drawings and sports trophies. She was pleased to see that she had been very thorough and she hadn’t missed anything.
She made her way back through the kitchen to her little private garden and she sat quietly and finished her glass of wine alone.
Book Six
2011
Better to be killed than frightened to death.
Mr Facey Romford’s Hounds,
R. S. Surtees (1805–1864)
Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-three
Angus had to admit that his granddaughter, Alia, was a captivating child.
Her skin was coffee-coloured, and she possessed startling blue eyes, and she had long curly hair that was raven black. She was beautiful and bright as a button. And, even at three, she had already worked out who she could rely on to get what she wanted.
Angus found himself popping round to Jamie and Jamilla’s as often as possible and, when Alia shouted out excitedly, ‘It’s my Granddad Angus!’, he felt a rush of love so deep it had surprised him. He loved the feel of her plump little body on his lap as he listened delightedly to her chattering. She had such an engaging personality and he loved being in her company.
Lorna saw the child regularly too, but Jamilla had set boundaries from the off, and Lorna knew she had no choice but to follow them. She was getting a taste of her own medicine after what she had put Diana through years ago. Jamilla was shrewd enough to know that, where Lorna was concerned, she needed to make her understand that she wasn’t the main carer, and she was never going to be. Lorna only saw the child because she allowed it.
Jamie, like Angus, was enchanted with the child, and Eilish had taken to her too. Carly, though, at eighteen now, played with her but treated her more like a little sister, and Angus knew that suited Jamilla perfectly. She adored the child, but she also wanted her daughter to have the freedom and the lack of responsibility that had been stolen from her.
Carly was getting ready to go to university, and she couldn’t wait to get away. She didn’t see herself as a mum, because Jamilla had taken over the child’s welfare from day one. Carly had been relieved that she didn’t have to do the backbreaking work that came with a young baby. She was still free to live her life, the same as her friends.
Alia called Jamilla ‘Mum’, and that suited everyone – especially Carly. As Jamilla said, there was plenty of time before they had to say anything to the child about her parentage, and that was when Angus would feel the anger towards his son bubbling up inside him all over again. That he had fathered a rapist – a fucking nonce – still rankled and, even though he had made good, it would always be there like a cancer eating away at him.
When Lorna had told him what Angus Junior had said about Carly he had been stunned that his son could have been so callous and so hateful, considering that he had forced himself on a young girl and left her to suffer the consequences alone. Seeing Carly smiling again had been a big relief. She had been such a tiny thing when it had happened, and now she had finally blossomed and was acting like a young girl should.
He found that she was on his mind a lot, and he still felt the burn of guilt about her situation. The beautiful child that had been created because of his son’s violence was loved by them all, yet she would always be a reminder to him of what his son had done, had been capable of. He wasn’t sure that he would ever be able to come to terms with that knowledge. Angus forced the dark thoughts from his mind, because he knew they wouldn’t bring him anything of value, and one thing he had learned early on from his mother was that if something wasn’t worth pursuing in the early stages, then let the fucker go. She had been right, as always. But he knew that she understood how he felt about this grandchild, because she felt the same.
He turned around from his desk and smiled at Roy, who was gleefully counting the money that had been delivered from one of their clubs. Roy, like him, loved the feel of the cash in his hands. They liked the plastic in the more upmarket clubs because they could pay the bills easily – without anyone noticing or caring, most of the time – but in the smaller, less salubrious places they still insisted on cash. As Eilish had once remarked, carelessly, the cash clubs were where the lap dancers went when their best days were over. He wouldn’t argue with that.
In his upmarket clubs the girls rarely got past twenty-nine – and that was if they were lucky. The emphasis on youth, especially extreme youth, was so entrenched in the public psyche these days, it was now a requirement, and it didn’t sit well with him or Roy. He had to cater for what his punters wanted – he was running a business, and the customer called the shots – but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
Some of the girls looked so young, he felt bad employing them. But if he didn’t, some other fucker would. Plus his clubs were where the girls wanted to work, because he brought in the punters with a good wedge – and that was the name of the game, because his girls weren’t dancing up a fucking pole because they needed the exercise. He also guaranteed the girls’ safety, not just inside the club but outside; he made sure they got home safely too.
He glanced at his watch and was surprised to see how late it was. Roy was just finishing counting the money and, as he balanced the books, Angus poured them both a whiskey. ‘It’s nearly eight o’clock and we ain’t had a fucking drink!’
They laughed together, easy in each other’s company as ever.
Roy sipped his whiskey and sighed contentedly. ‘Just what the doctor ordered.’
Angus sat back at his desk and asked Roy seriously, ‘Talking of doctors, what do you think about Abad’s new walker? I’m not sure that I trust him. I get that Abad wants to retire, and good luck to him. But even though Abad is quite happy putting his whole operation in this geezer’s hands, there’s just something about him that I don’t like. I just don’t trust him, Roy, he feels like a snide fucker. I can’t relax in his company.’
Roy sat back in his chair and nodded his agreement. He was more than pleased that it was Angus who had brought the subject up.
‘I know exactly what you mean, Angus. He has what my old mum would have called bad juju. The more he smiles and smarms, the less I fucking like him. But I just assumed that someone as astute as Abad wouldn’t be giving him houseroom if he didn’t think he was up to the job.’
Angus agreed. ‘I suppose so, and I know you can’t like everyone you work with – or, in this case, deal with. But I really dislike this one – what’s his name? See, I can’t even keep his name in my bonce. That tells you what an impression he’s left on me. I just remember thinking that he creeped me out.’
Roy knew exactly how Angus felt, because he had the same doubts himself. ‘Hamid Fazilla, that was his name, he’s another Arab. I have put out feelers on the quiet but no one seems to
have heard of him or know anything about him. He’s like a ghost, Angus. Even the Old Bill seem to be in a quandary where he is concerned. It seems that his name has come up nowhere at all.’
Angus sipped his whiskey quietly for a while as he digested that information. ‘As I said to you and my mum, in all the years we have worked with Abad, this geezer’s name has never been mentioned. I want to know his history before I agree to work with him. Abad should know better than to try and slip a fucking stranger by me.’
Roy knew that Angus was right in what he was saying. They should just wait until they had spoken to Abad, one to one. Meanwhile, young Sean had proved himself more than capable of providing the clubs with anything deemed necessary, with the least amount of fuss and with a very good profit margin. He said as much to Angus.
Angus just laughed. ‘My Sean has a brain like a fucking computer, you know that as well as I do. He can work out an earn in seconds, down to the last fucking penny. If he can tip the scales in our favour with his supplier then I will happily tell Abad that we wish him a happy retirement but we will be taking our business elsewhere.’
Roy couldn’t argue with that. ‘Sean is dealing with the Colombians, as you know. They like him, and they trust him. He is a real asset because he is well respected. Not just because he’s a clever fucker but because there’s never once been a derogatory whisper about him. He only drinks occasionally, he never touches drugs and he is always there when needed.’
After the let-down of Angus Junior, Angus was relieved he had at least one son he could rely on to carry on the family name with pride. His second son was a fucking natural in their world and he had slipped into his role without any fanfare whatsoever and without the need to make his reputation in the public eye. Sean belonged to the new generation of villains and he was already a man to be reckoned with, should anyone be foolish enough to step on his toes.
If Sean had a beef with anyone, it was sorted out privately and with the minimum of fuss, and the person or people concerned would just disappear without trace. Sean thought everything through, right down to the last detail. But he also always tried his hardest to come to an amicable arrangement with anyone who felt they had a grievance with him.
Sean believed that violence should be a last resort, but if he was pushed too far then, like his father and his grandmother Diana, he could take it to the extreme. He saw it as a necessary evil.
Angus was thrilled with this son of his and his aptitude for the businesses that he had inherited. Diana too had been impressed at how easily he had fitted into the dynamics. So Angus was quite happy to let his son take over where Abad had left off, especially if that meant that he didn’t have to deal with that fucking Hamid and whoever he worked for. Angus knew that once Abad was off the scene, whoever took his place would immediately want to make their mark, and that was to be expected. But Angus wasn’t about to be dictated to by anyone, he didn’t give a fuck who they were.
‘You know what, Roy? Sean said to me the other night that when Abad walks away, it will be the end of an era.’
Roy laughed gently. ‘And he is right. Your Sean is an ultra-intelligent man, and everyone knows that about him. Tangiers is all but over now, thanks to the European fucking Union and their determination to stop the drug trade. So we are already in bed with the Colombians in London and the rest of the UK. Like Sean, I think it’s the natural next step to deal with them exclusively in Europe too, and move away from the Moroccans and the Afghanis. There’s too much heat with Afghanistan and what is going on with them, so I think it makes sense to give them all a swerve and let Sean broker a new deal.’
Angus listened to his friend’s advice – he was right. Abad pulling out of the deal gave them the perfect excuse to walk away without any real animosity being generated.
‘Yeah, I agree, Roy. As Sean has a great relationship with the Colombians, I think we should pursue that and wipe our hands of the Moroccan connection. Given that it’s Abad’s decision to walk away, that means that we can do the same.’
Roy lit a joint and took a deep toke on it before saying seriously, ‘Well, let’s see what Abad has to say about it all before we start blowing up any balloons and lighting up our sparklers.’
Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-four
Eilish was tired, but that went with the territory of working all hours, and she was used to it by now.
She was still seeing Davey Proctor and no one was more surprised about that than she was. He had a reputation as the most unreliable man in London – she had known that about him from the off – and she had gone into her relationship with him without any expectations whatsoever. But three years on, they were still together and she couldn’t fault him.
Sometimes she wondered if that fact disappointed her, because he had proved her wrong. What she couldn’t deny was that she wanted him as much as ever and she could not imagine her life without him. She believed that he cared for her and that he loved her in his own way, but then she also knew that his reputation still preceded him, and because of that she wasn’t sure if she could ever really trust him. That her father and Sean had finally accepted him was something that she was grateful for, because it meant they had made sure that he wasn’t doing the dirty on her. Her father and brother would have paid people to watch him so closely they would have been able to tell her what time he had a shit in the morning and what coffee he drank beforehand.
As she looked around her and watched the girls as they gyrated around the poles, she couldn’t help wondering if her Davey still hankered after them. The club was quiet, it was early evening and there were only a few city boys in. The Canary Wharf spenders were regular faces early in the evening, as they tended to come in before catching their trains. They would drink heavily and spend heavily, and the early birds – the girls who came in before nine o’clock – would happily rinse them of whatever cash they had on them. They were all waiting for their chance to get the later slots, where the real money was. Eilish made sure that the new girls did the first shifts, so she could weed out the head bangers and the thieves. The last thing any club needed was a punter who had been ripped off.
Eilish couldn’t help smiling as Niamh tottered towards her on impossibly high heels. She was nineteen, with the face of an angel and a body that could bring a grown man to his knees, and she was also the nicest girl you could ever wish to meet.
‘Jesus, how do they walk in these fucking shoes!’
Eilish laughed delightedly because she couldn’t help but like this girl, and she had taken her under her wing. ‘Niamh, give the shoes back to whoever you borrowed them off, and wear a pair that you can walk in properly. I have put you on till twelve tonight, so you will be on with the earners. Don’t let me down, OK?’
Niamh smiled gratefully. ‘Thank fuck for that! I could barely keep myself upright. I just wanted to thank you, Eilish, because you have been really good to me.’
Eilish pushed her away gently. ‘Just get up there and do what you’re best at, and I will see you later.’
She watched as the girl tottered off precariously, balanced on shoes that were far too high and far too old for her image. Niamh would earn because she still looked like a kid, and unfortunately with a lot of their punters that was a big attraction.
Davey Proctor watched Niamh walk away and he was smiling too. ‘She’s like a kid wearing her mum’s shoes.’
Eilish grinned because she could see that, like her, Davey knew instinctively that Niamh needed looking after. ‘She isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she’s sensible enough to listen to reason.’
Davey nodded. ‘She will be all right, we will look after her. I only wish the other girls were as easy to control. They’re like fucking animals some of them.’
Eilish laughed. She really couldn’t argue with that. But unlike Davey and Sean, she understood how cut-throat this business could be, and how the girls would quite happily push themselves into another girl’s punter, even though they knew it was frowned upon. Bu
t, in fairness, they were all here for one reason and one reason only, and that was to earn money.
‘Come on, Eilish, let’s go and grab a bite to eat before this place gets too busy. I have a feeling it’s going to be another mad night. Indian or Thai, darling? You choose.’
Eilish followed him out of the club, all the time wondering why she didn’t just stop seeing him, because that would make her life so much easier.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards his car, and she felt the draw of him once again. She wondered if it would ever go away.
Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-five
Sean was settled in the offices in Soho and was waiting patiently when his dad and Roy walked in.
Sean had a way with him that Angus admired. The man was so self-contained and so calm that he could put the people around him on edge. Even now, in his own offices, he could feel the power of his Sean’s presence, and he knew that Roy could feel it too. It was something that was a part of his make-up, and it automatically put the people he dealt with on their guard.
After they had helped themselves to drinks and were sitting down, Sean said quietly, ‘I’ve invited Granny and Gabriel, because I think she needs to know what I am going to tell you.’
Angus didn’t question him. If there was one thing he knew, it was that this son could be relied on to do whatever was necessary, and he would do it right. Sean reminded him of himself as a young man – albeit more educated and far more privileged.
Sean answered his mobile and Angus smiled, because he knew Sean still couldn’t believe that he refused to have one. That was a sign of the times, of course, and Angus accepted that he had no interest in computers and all that went with them. He left that to Sean.