Dangerous Lady (50 page)

‘You know the answer to that, Maws.’ He took her hand gently in his. ‘I’ll do whatever you say. I know you’re the brainy one. Janine’s always calling me a thicko.’ He grinned.

Maura was annoyed.

‘Listen, Roy, you might not have a degree but you’re cute enough. Janine should watch her trap. She’s got too bloody much of it.’

‘Don’t worry, Maws. She don’t get it all her own way. She just thinks she does.’ He raised his thick black eyebrows and smiled. Maura found herself smiling with him.

Roy picked up his glass. ‘Well then, girl. Here’s to us!’

‘To the Ryans!’

They both drank deeply, then Maura stood up unsteadily. ‘We’d better get to the wake. Good grief, I’m pissed!’ ‘On a day like today, Maws, it’s the only way to be.’ They laughed softly together. Except Maura’s laughter was tinged with hysteria. Back at Michael’s flat the atmosphere was tense. Michael’s boyfriend Richard was red-eyed and nervous. He had taken the death badly. About forty people had been invited back to the flat, mostly family and close friends. When Maura and Roy arrived, the first person she saw was Gerry Jackson. She went to him, the brandy making her more open than she usually was.

‘You’ll miss him more than anyone, Gerry. You went back a long time.’

He nodded sadly.

‘Yeah, Maws. I will. You know that me mum’s here? She always liked Mickey. Say hello to her for me. It would mean a lot to her.’

‘I will, Gerry. She’s a good woman.’

‘I remember once when we was all small… you weren’t even born then … me and Mickey was only about twelve. Just after the war. Well, me mum was on the “bash” then, down the Bayswater Road. I’m not ashamed of it. She fed and clothed the lot of us from her earnings. Anyway, me and Mickey was out playing and this gang of older boys came into Kensington Gardens and started taunting me about me mum. They were, about sixteen and I was scared, Maws. Bloody terrified! And then Mickey started to punch the biggest one. He went garrity. And the other boys, they were frightened, see. Because even then Michael had something about him that scared people.’

His voice was low and charged with emotion. ‘Did you know that he sent my old mum a ton every Christmas? Never forgot her once. A nice card and a hundred quid. I loved that man, Maura. Loved the bones of him. Whatever

people might say about him.’

Maura was touched by his devotion. ‘He loved you, Gerry. I know he did.’

Gerry brought out a large white handkerchief and blew his nose. His scarred face and missing ear were more noticeable than usual.

‘He loved you, Maws. Loved you to death.’

She felt the large ball of tears in her throat and hurriedly excused herself. She made her way to the kitchen and got herself a drink. The kitchen worktops were piled with alcohol of every kind. Michael’s boyfriend followed her in there. Looking at his white face, Maura felt sorry for him. She had never liked Richard, had never liked any of Michael’s boyfriends, but seeing the grief on the man’s face, she was sorry for him.

‘I’ll miss him, Maura. I know that people frowned on us but we loved each other in our own way.’ She could see the tears shining in his eyes and suddenly wanted to escape from the flat. Run away somewhere where Michael was unknown. She fought down the feeling of panic. She was drunk, that’s what was wrong with her. From the lounge she heard her father’s voice starting to sing.

She patted Richard’s shoulder and walked back into the lounge, holding on to her glass of brandy tightly. Her father was singing an old Irish ballad and it sounded funny with his cockney accent. She leaned against the wall and listened to the words of’The Wild Colonial Boy’.

Maura studied her father’s shrunken form. Thanks to her mother’s dominance, she had hardly seen hint over the years, and, looking at him as he sang, she was suddenly lonely for him. For his cuddles and his kind words. Everyone in the packed room, full of cigarette smoke and perfume, stood silently while he sang an ode to his dead boys.

Maura, along with many people in that room, blinked away tears. She decided that Michael would have approved of his father singing. Would have enjoyed it, had he been here. She sipped at her drink.

When Benjamin finished singing everyone called for another and Maura’s voice was the loudest. Drinking his beer and clearing his throat, Benjamin began singing once more. Down in the valley, the valley so blue, Hang your head over … Maura listened to the sad words and felt the grief inside her gradually ebbing away.

Send it by letter, send it by mail,

Send it by care of the Birmingham jail… She knew the songs back to front. They were songs that had been sung at countless funerals over the years. Then her Auntie Nellie, an old lady now, began to sing a song that had all the older people joining in. It was an old Irish rebel song and it made Maura feel sick.

The people they were singing about had murdered thes man they had all come to bury, if only they knew it.

Oh, I am a merry ploughboy, And I plough the fields by day, But I’m leaving home tomorrow morn To join the IRA. Maura looked at Geoffrey, standing by their mother, and knew by his face that he was thinking the same thing as herself. Well, the same people would be getting rid of him

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soon and she thanked God for it.

She swallowed back the rest of the brandy, then made a decision. She was going to get Willy Templeton and she was going to take him to her house. Then she was going to have mad and passionate sex. It was the only way, to her mind, to end a day like today.

She lurched away from the wall and went to find him.

I Chapter Twenty-nine Maura had been teaching Roy the ropes slowly over the last few months, until now, in January, he was finally getting an understanding of all the different aspects of the businesses. She had handed the docklands over the William Templeton. All she had to do there now was turn up for monthly meetings. She had found herself concentrating more and more on the family businesses as time went on - the clubs, betting shops, and the newer borderline businesses, such as the Mortgage and Investment Corporation that Michael had set up in 1984. Today she was trying to explain all this to Roy, as she wanted him to come in and take a large amount of the donkey work from her.

‘The rub is, Roy, we give mortgages through our own lending company. Now the company itself has no actual investors, so we sell our clients to other companies, such as the Bank of Kuwait, et cetera. It’s pretty simple really. That Way we make a quick profit, and if the client gets into difficulties with their payments, then they can foreclose. That way we never have to take anyone to court. It’s all °ut of our hands.’

‘Sounds simple enough.’ Roy’s voice was worried and Maura guessed that he had not really grasped what she was saying. ‘It is. That’s the beauty of it. We advertise in the lo papers, offering everything from small personal loans to! remortgages. You’d be surprised at the number of peoples out there who want to “unlock their capital”, as the advertisers put it. We offer from five to a hundred grand) secured against their properties. Even bought council houses. Literally anything. Our main aim, though, is to get the first-time buyers. We’re already renting office space with a series of estate agents. That way, when people see the property they want, we’re there waiting for the poor buggers. It’s a doddle, Roy. You’ll soon pick it up, mate.’ Roy frowned as he listened to her speak. “;”

‘And this is legal, Maws?’ His voice was sceptical and she laughed. ‘Yeah, it’s legal, all right. Hard as that is to believe.’ ‘What if they can’t afford the place they want?’ ‘That’s easily remedied. You can borrow three times your earnings, so if a youngster comes in and he earns, say, twelve grand a year, for argument’s sake, then the borrower will tell him to bring in some “moody” pay slips, say one for a week when he did a load of overtime, so it looks like he earns sixteen grand a year. So instead of giving him a mortgage for thirty-six grand he gets one for forty-eight grand. I know it sounds bent, but believe me, Roy, banks and building societies do it all the time.’ - ‘I see.’

Maura lit a cigarette and continued. ‘Now about the council estates. I’ve extended the areas for the tally men And that’s another misnomer. The way that the law works, you can lend people money providing they buy goods from you. You can’t under any circumstances offer them money straight off. What the tally men do is, they knock on someone’s door and then offer them a continental quilt set at, say, two quid a week. The quilt set costs a score so

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you know that you have five weeks to get them to borrow off you.

‘After a few weeks, the tally man then offers them a loan of maybe fifty quid, to be paid back at a fiver a week. The person takes up the offer and they get the money on the spot. They then pay back eighty quid. A clear profit of thirty quid. I know it doesn’t sound much like that, but when you consider we make about three thousand loans a week it soon mounts up. Then they’re offered a ton. The tally man holds out the hundred pounds and nine times out often the temptation is too strong. They go for it.’

‘But what if they can’t afford to pay the money back, Maws?’

‘Then we send the big boys round. Some of the larger council estates are into us for a small fortune. And before you ask, it’s perfectly legal. Getting into debt is now socially acceptable. You want that TV or video, you get it on the never-never. Big stores offer credit, everyone offers credit, it’s like a public service these days. Even the social security has jumped on the band wagon. They borrow money now as well!’

Roy grinned but his big moon face was bewildered by it all. ‘Can I take these files home and study them?’

‘Of course you can. The sooner you learn the better.’

He picked up the files and put them into his briefcase.

‘The bloke from Jersey is just about ready to shift the gold.’

‘Don’t you think that it’s a bit quick, Maws? Michael was looking at leaving it for five or six years.’

‘Well, Michael ain’t here now, is he? I make the decisions and I want shot of it. The bloke’s popping over at the weekend. I want you at the meet with me, OK?’

‘Sure, Maws. Whatever you say.’

She went to the coffee percolator and replenished their

cups. Passing one to Roy, she smiled at him sadly. ‘Have you seen anything of Mother?’ Roy sipped the lukewarm liquid and shrugged. ‘She was pretty cut up about Geoffrey.’ ‘I guessed as much.’ ‘Why didn’t you go to the funeral, Maws?’ ‘Because I’m not a hypocrite, that’s why. I would have spat on his grave.’ ‘Have the old Bill been in touch?’ Maura shook her head vigorously, sending her hair rioting around her face.

‘Not so much as a hello, kiss me arse or anything. And that’s just how I like it!’ i

‘But don’t you think that’s strange? ‘Not really. They know that we do business with the Irish. They probably think he double crossed them or something. To be honest, I don’t give a damn. If they had anything they’d be battering the door down, but I’m too wily for the old Bill. I have more plants in the police stations in London than there are in the Royal Botanical Gardens! If they walked in here now they’d find nothing. Nothing that they could nick me for. Me and Mickey only ever made one mistake and that was Geoffrey. Only you and I know the score now. Without one of us talking they ain’t got nothing. So relax.’

‘Well, you ain’t got any worries where I’m concerned.’

‘I know that, Bruv. That’s why I’m trusting you with all

this.’ 1

Roy smiled at her, pleased to be so well thought of. ‘Right then, Roy.’ Maura checked her watch. ‘I’ve got a

meet with a firm of ‘blaggers” from Liverpool. I’d better

get on me way. It’s ten-thirty now. If I don’t leave soon

I’ll catch the lunchtime traffic.’

Roy stood up and stretched. ‘Okey doke. Sure you

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don’t want me to come with you?’

‘No, thanks. I’ve been dealing with this little firm for about eight years now. They’re kosher. See you later, mate.’

Roy left the house and Maura lit herself another cigarette. Roy was working out all right. He couldn’t express himself very well, but he was shrewd enough. He was getting the hang of everything. She had given Leslie the betting shops for a while. He was doing a good job. Garry and Lee were finally getting their act together. They had got a bit lairy after Michael’s funeral but she had nipped that in the bud. All in all, considering what had happened, things were going quite well.

She finished her cigarette and got ready for the meet with Tommy Rifkind. It would be the first with him since Michael’s death. He had come to the funeral to pay his respects, but now Maura had to deal with him alone. For a few seconds she wondered if it was all worth it. But as usual she pushed the thought away. The least she could do was carry on, for Michael’s sake. He had built this little empire up from nothing, from being a bookie’s runner at barely ten to a breaker in his teens. She owed her brother this. As she owed him everything. And if he was watching over her, as she sometimes fancied that he was, she hoped that he was pleased with how she was carrying on widiout him. When Maura got to the club in Dean Street, Tommy Rifkind was already inside waiting for her. She showed him UP to her office immediately. Like herself he was a busy Person. He had his number two with him, Joss Campion, a six feet six inch rugby player with the ugliest face Maura had ever seen. Tommy, on the other hand, was five foot eight with a slim, lithe build. He also had the darkest brown eyes that Maura had ever seen on a light-skinned man. Michael had always said that he had a touch of the tarbrush in him. Inside the office the men sat down and Maura smiled at them.

‘Sorry to keep you. Get yourselves comfortable and I’ll organise some coffee.’

A little while later they were all drinking hot coffee lac with brandy, Tommy’s favourite. Joss Campion had poured his into his saucer and after blowing on the hot liquid loudly was now slurping it from the saucer. He was completely unaware of all the noise he was making. Maura had to bite her lip as Tommy rolled his eyes at her.