Dangerous Lady (35 page)

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begin to whine, and for some reason this just made her laugh harder.

Michael stopped the car and pulled her towards him. She could smell the dank dampness of the material of his coat. Then the tears came at last. She saw Terry Petherick, Anthony and Benny, as clear as a photograph in her mind. Then she saw her mother’s face, old and wrinkled… a feeling of panic welled up in her and for a few minutes she thought she really had gone mad.

How had this happened to her? And, more importantly, how had she allowed it to happen? Both questions were to remain unanswered for many years, but as she sat in the car with Michael and Driver that night, she realised for the first time just how lonely and unhappy she really was. ‘All right, Maws. All right, my love. I’ll look after you. Don’t you worry.’ Michael’s voice was soft and husky.

She did not want Michael to look after her. She wanted Terry Petherick to put his arms around her and whisper his words of love, as he had done before. Long ago. Before she had become bad. But, like many other bad things in her life, she forced the thoughts away. Where they waited patiently for the day they would all creep out into the open and torture her, like the long forgotten nightmares of her childhood.

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Chapter Nineteen ‘Merry Christmas, Auntie Maura!’

Margaret’s twin daughters jumped on to the little bed where Maura was sleeping. She opened her eyes, not sure for a few seconds where she was. Then seeing the two bright faces, she tried to smile.

She was at Margaret’s. She sat up in bed and hugged Patricia and Penelope. The sleeping tablets she had taken the night before made her feel groggy. She yawned. ‘Merry Christmas, my lovelies.’

‘Thank you for our Christmas presents, Auntie Maura. They were lovely.’

The two identical little faces beamed at her and she felt the familiar tightening in her guts. What she wouldn’t give to be the mother of these two! She hugged them both to her tightly.

Margaret came into the bedroom carrying a tray. Maura could smell eggs and bacon.

‘Oh, Marge. Don’t be silly. I can get up.’ Margaret pursed her lips and shook her head. ‘Oh no you won’t, Maws. Oi, you two! Dad’s got your breakfast waiting for you downstairs.’

The two girls got off the bed, their bright ginger hair telling anyone who looked at them who their mother was.

Patricia, the elder of the two by five minutes, grimaced.

‘Oh, can’t we stay up here, Mum?’ Her voice had the whine that made Margaret feel like murdering her. ‘N.O. spells no. Now hop it, the pair of you.’ The two girls ran from the room.

‘Honest, Marge, I couldn’t eat a thing.’

The greasy smell of the bacon and eggs was beginning” to make her feel sick.

‘You will bloody eat it. After all you’ve been through this last few weeks!’ Margaret’s voice was scandalised, ‘You’ll end up ill if you’re not careful. Smoke, smoke, smoke! Drink, drink. And then sleeping pills to blot out the world.’

‘Oh, give it a rest, Marge, for Christ’s sake.’

Margaret put the tray across Maura’s legs as if to trap her in the bed.

‘No I won’t give it a rest! You’re my best friend and I feel that it’s down to me to tell you a few home truths.’ ‘Such as?’ Maura’s voice was sarcastic.

‘For a start, you look old and haggard. You’re drinking’ too much. It’s impossible to get a civil word out of you., You’re moody, sarcastic, and to be honest, Maws, you’re; beginning to get on my tits!’

Maura closed her eyes and yawned again.

‘Margie, just in case it’s escaped your notice, I recently had a brother murdered. He was spread all over London like a paper chase. His left foot and various other parts of his anatomy are still unaccounted for. I had a big fight with my mother and Carla who are under the impression ‘ that me and Mickey were to blame for Benny’s murder. I was arrested by the police and kept for over three hours on suspicion of two other murders. And you have the nerve to sit there and tell me that I am not my old self!’ Maura’s voice rose. ‘It’s enough to make the Queen feel depressed.’ - Margaret sighed. She loved Maura wholeheartedly. ‘Look, Maws, all I’m trying to say is, pull yourself, together. If not for my sake then for the kids. I can’t stand them seeing you like this. Last night you was so pissed Dennis had to carry you up to bed.’

‘I know. Marge, I’m sorry. It’s just that with all that’s happened, I feel responsible …’

That’s crap and you know it! I can swallow a lot. Maws, but not self-pity. That’s a luxury none of us can afford.’

Maura looked at Margaret as if for the first time. Since having the kids she had become huge. In her pink candlewick dressing gown she looked like a little pink Buddha. Her red hair was pinned up untidily and her face had the harassed look that seems to be worn only by mothers of young children. It was only her eyes, the deep sea-green eyes, that still held the image of the girl she had been. They were as sparkling and mischievous as ever.

Cutting off a small piece of bacon, Margaret held it to Maura’s mouth. Reluctantly she ate it. Slowly Margaret fed her the whole breakfast. When the last piece of food had been eaten she placed a mug of tea in Maura’s hands. Then, picking up the tray, she made her way out of the room. As she opened the bedroom door, holding the tray against her side with one hand, she looked back over her shoulder at Maura.

‘You can’t plan and scheme on an empty stomach, you know!’

‘And just what do you mean by that?’

Marge smiled at her cheekily. ‘I’m not as silly as I look, you know, Maura Ryan. So I’ll ” thank you not to act as if I am.’ She lowered her voice. ‘What I know and what I’ve guessed will go to my grave with me. Now, you need your wits about you at this time, ‘ and I intend to see that you have them.’

She walked from the room and let the door slam shut behind her.

Maura leant back against the pillows and sighed. Good old Marge. The only real friend she had. She sat up in bed, and, putting the tea on the night table, picked up her packet of cigarettes. She lit one, drawing the smoke into her lungs. Margaret was right. She did need her wits about her. If only Carla would talk to her she would feel better. Every time she tried to get through to her, the phone was slammed down. She had even tried ringing Carla’s friends. But nothing. She had not answered any of Maura’s messages. Maura could imagine her mother, in her element, poisoning Carla against her. Oh, she had guessed her mother’s game all right…

She took another pull on the cigarette and felt a wave of nausea sweep over her. The combination of fried food, cigarette smoke and acute hangover was suddenly too much for her stomach. With her hand pressed tightly to her mouth, she ran from the bedroom into the bathroom. Dropping her cigarette into the toilet pan she retched. She heaved until she thought her insides were going to come up. A cold sweat broke out all over her body. She leaned against the wall, trying to gather her wits about her. Turning on the shower, she slipped her nightie over her head and stood underneath the shower head. She shivered as ice cold water ran over her body, making her teeth chatter. Still she stood there, trying to bring some kind of life back into her limbs.

After a few minutes she felt the delicious sensation of warmth that only cold water can bring. She felt the tightening of her skin as the blood vessels beneath the surface tried desperately to pump warm blood around her aching body. Her nipples were rock hard and as she turned the water on to hot she savoured the exquisite sensation of

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the heat gradually invading her bones. She put her face up to let the water cleanse her from head to toe. Gradually she felt the life begin to come back to her. For the first time in days she actually felt something that was real and tangible.

Then the tears came. A torrent of salty rivulets that mixed with the heavy water from the shower and ran away, down her breasts, over her empty stomach, on to her feet and into the shower tray.

In her mind she saw the loathing on her mother’s face. The handsome carefree face of Benny, the young boy who had always been in some kind of prank. She saw the face of Terry Petherick, as it had been the night of the club bombing. She had known then that he still cared for her, that if she had not been Maura Ryan they would have married. She would have been like Margie, juggling the bills, looking after the kids and just being loved. As Dennis loved Marge, even with her large mauve and silver stretch marks and empty breasts. And she, Maura, would have loved it. Every second of it.

Instead she had more money than she knew what to do with. She ran a business that was more crooked than the Government of Cuba, and had a brother who was at this time almost totally dependent on her. As for the younger boys, they blamed her for Benny’s death. Not Michael but her. They believed that if she had not wanted her dock properties so badly, and had given them to Dopolis, Benny would still be alive. And she had to be honest and admit to herself that they were right. She cried harder.Whoever said that money made you happy was a liar. A dirty rotten stinking liar! She would give every penny she had at this moment to be just plain ordinary Mrs Terry Petherick. He was the only man she would ever want, even if she lived to be a hundred. If only she had kept that little baby! If she

had nothing else now she would have had that. She would never have taken over the ice cream and hot dogs. She would never have become the person she was now. The person who had watched her brother murder an old man, Sammy Goldbaum, who had been waiting patiently for them to arrive. He had walked so meekly to the car. And now she had his blood on her hands and could never escape from any of it.

She had always thought that if she ever came face to face with Terry Petherick she would spit in his eye. Instead she had felt an urge to tell him all that happened to her. About the baby and her life with Michael… everything. She had wanted to be like it had been once before. When she was young and free. She was still young, but too much had happened over the years ever to allow her to be the girl that she once had been.

She turned off the tap and stood in the confined space of the shower cubicle. The sudden silence was startling and broke her out of her reverie. Her tears were gone now and all they had left in their wake was a heavy tiredness. Stepping from the shower, she wrapped a large towel around her body. As she dried her hair she thought about what she was going to do next. Then she made a decision. All that she could do now was go forward into the future. No matter how exciting the past may have been you could never recapture it. What Margaret had said earlier was right. Self-pity was a destructive force. She would have to make herself stronger. Much stronger. What she really needed was to get laid!

She smiled to herself. That was what Marge had been telling her for years! She shrugged aggressively, as if throwing off all her previous worries and cares. She wiped the steam from the mirror on the wall opposite the shower and stared at her face. Her hair hung in limp, damp strands

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around her face which was puffy from crying. She smiled to herself. She was going to pick herself up and slowly mend all the broken pieces. She and Michael could take on the world. She had absolutely no one else now. She had lost them all, one by one. But she knew that she would always have Michael and Margie. Good old Margie.

She remembered that it was Christmas Day. Back at her own house she had the mother-of-pearl jewellery box that she had bought for Carla … She forced the thought from her mind. Let the ungrateful little bitch stay with her mother! Maura did not need her. She did not need anyone.

She ran her hands through her hair, feeling the silky softness of it. Letting the towel fall from her body, she ran her hands down her neck and over her breasts, travelling down her tight stomach to her pubic hair, enjoying the sensation. Picking up her nightie from the floor she put it back on, then went back into the bedroom where her overnight bag was. She felt a lot better. Much better, in fact. As she plugged in her hair dryer she was actually humming a little tune. Margie was right. Self-pity was a bummer. All that she could do now was go forward. When she finally went downstairs she had her make-up on and her hair done to perfection. She was wearing a dress that would have cost Marge two months’ housekeeping and was gratified to hear the long low whistle that came from Dennis.

‘If I wasn’t so happy with my old Margie I’d be after you myself, Maws!’

Marge laughed. ‘Listen here, Dennis Dawson. You couldn’t pull a ligament these days, let alone a beauty like Maura. Especially not since you lost your hair.’ She smiled at Maura. ‘All he’s got these days is six hairs and a nit!’

Maura laughed with her. Dennis had lost his hair early, and Maura knew that it was a sore point with him.

‘Come out here and have a cuppa. You look much better.’

Maura followed her out into her little kitchen. ‘I feel a lot better, Marge. Thanks for letting me come.’

Margaret plugged in the electric kettle. ‘What you on about, you silly cow? This is your home for as long as you want to be here.’ She opened her arms wide and Maura walked into them. Margaret’s tiny plump body held on to Maura’s tall thin frame. Maura got upset again at the show of emotion.

‘If you knew what I’d done, Marge!’

‘Shh.’ Margaret stepped back from Maura and raised her finger to her lips. ‘Look, Maws, I know that you and Michael ain’t strictly kosher. I’ve always known and I don’t care. You’re me mate and that’s all I’m interested in.’

Maura looked at her and frowned. ‘Sometimes, Marge, I don’t think that I’m all the ticket. I get so moody and I think really weird things.’

‘Maws love, you’ve been through an awful lot, you know. Just let yourself heal naturally. Benny’s death would make anyone feel rotten. It was horrific. You need time to get over it, that’s all.’

‘Maybe you’re right, Marge.’

She wanted to tell Margaret what Mickey had done to Sammy Goldbaum and Jonny Fenwick. She wanted to tell her that she had helped him. She was experiencing that feeling again - as if she was on the outside of her body looking in. She had always known that Michael enjoyed inflicting pain on people. And until the night with Jonny Fenwick and Sammy Goldbaum it had not bothered her.