It Was Only Ever You (39 page)

He admired her, he wanted to be with her. But not if it meant losing himself in the process.

‘Did you hear the news?’ Gerry said as he walked into the office.

Iggy was in bad form this evening. You could tell from the cold way that he had nodded at him as if to say, ‘In my office, now.’ He had not even bothered to take his coat off.

Gerry guessed the reason for his bad mood, and his prolonged disappearance. The boss and Sheila had been having an affair. Iggy had wanted to cool it for a while, so he had made himself scarce. Gerry couldn’t really understand what the big deal was. As far as he could see, Iggy and Sheila were as strange as each other. They were a match made in heaven! Maybe if he got married he might be less of a strange fish. Hell, he might even get happy and cut back on the miserable, poker-faced arse act.

‘What news?’ he said, only half listening. He could not even pretend to be interested in gossip.

‘Joe Higgins called around to Sheila’s family home and came the heavy. He was acting for the Balduccis, stupid eejit. Anyway, he gave Patrick an awful pelt on the cheek...’ Then, seeing Iggy’s extraordinary expression of terror and fury, quickly added, ‘Sheila’s auntie threw a pot of roast beef at him and laid him out. Made quite a mess, it seems. Aiden was in here last night and said Joe is still mad as hell...’

‘Why didn’t you call me?’ Iggy said, although he knew the answer already. Nobody had his number. If something bad happened, or if somebody got into trouble, the managers had autonomy to deal with it themselves. Iggy had no attachments to anyone or anything. Business was just business.

Until now.

*

Joe Higgins was surprised to see Iggy Morrow turning up in his club. Surprised but secretly pleased. He had doubtless come to plead for his girlfriend. Joe had taken a fall that night, that was true. It had taken him a little time to recover from the nasty gash on his cheek, but more time from the rumours that he had been felled by corned beef in the hands of a seventy-year-old woman. Joe laughed it off, but it wasn’t over. Nobody humiliated him like that. The Jewish broad was still around and Joe had plans to send somebody else down to Riverdale to get rid of her once and for all. However, he had to hand-pick them. Aiden and his lads didn’t do old people and women, but there were a few guys out there that were less discerning about their clientele.

Just the sight of Iggy Morrow being all manners to his doormen made the fact that his plans had not yet taken shape all the sweeter.

‘Mr Morrow,’ he said, walking towards him holding out his hand. ‘It’s a pleasure to see you.’

Iggy paused before raising his right hand. Joe noticed his reluctance and it really got his blood up. This guy had always got on his nerves. He just couldn’t make him out. He was a successful guy and Joe could respect that. But he was too straight, if there was such a thing; at least, if he was bent, Joe didn’t know about it, and that made him feel uncomfortable. Joe could not help feeling that Ignatius Morrow looked down his nose at him. Plus, nobody knew anything about him, where he was from or who his people were. It just wasn’t how things were done. It just wasn’t... Irish. He was a man of mystery. Joe figured that was probably a construct. Maybe Morrow just kept out of everybody’s way because he was a coward.

‘We need to talk,’ Iggy said.

‘Let’s go into my office,’ Joe said. ‘It’s out the back.’

As he guided his guest through the bar with a flourish, Joe noticed Iggy looking around, his lips curling at the abundantly green decor. He made a mental note to get it changed. At the same time, he had half a mind to call a couple of the guys into the meeting to help bring down the great Ignatius Morrow and show him who was boss. Morrow was a powerful man. He could probably pay to get people whacked but he didn’t go in for violence. If he did, Joe would have heard about it. He was shorter than him, Joe happily observed. He didn’t know what all the fuss was about. Joe could show him a few moves of his own. As they walked through the bar he drew some pictures in his head of how it might go. Joe would get things started with polite chat, explain about the Balduccis and reason with him. Morrow would probably get all uppity with him, Joe would seem to let it go, then you would have to pull a gun. He wouldn’t even have to touch Iggy. He was a straight guy, and with guys like that all you needed was a gun in your hand and the kind of face that said you had the intention to use it. He would be frightened out of his wits!

Joe was allowing himself the indulgence of how it was going to be as he turned the handle on his office door. But before it was fully open, Iggy had grabbed Joe’s arm and twisted it until he was lying on the floor of his office, face down. Iggy was sitting on his back and had something sharp trained at the corner of Joe’s neck.

‘I am not going to waste my time reasoning with you, Joe. If you ever come near any of my staff, ever again, I will personally kill you. But I’m guessing that you don’t believe me, so I’m going to cut off your ear now just to make my point.’

‘No, no, no!’ Joe cried out.

He had been threatened enough times in his life to know when somebody meant what he said. Morrow had the cool voice of the guy who means business. He wasn’t a hothead like Joe. He was one of the others. The really crazy ones. The ones you avoided. Shit.

‘I hear you, I hear you!’ Joe pleaded.

‘The problem is, I don’t believe you’re a man of your word,’ Morrow continued, not moving the knife an inch, ‘so I’m just wondering if I should go ahead and do it anyway...’

‘Please, please don’t cut me. I swear I’ll stay away from the whore and the kid. I promise.’

‘Good,’ Iggy said, putting the knife back in his pocket.

As he moved his knees from the small of Joe’s back, the gangster heard a deafening crippling crack and screamed out in pain.

‘That’s for calling Sheila a whore,’ Ignatius said as he broke Joe’s arm at the elbow.

As Aiden ran to his boss’s rescue Iggy added, ‘...and upsetting her family.’ Then, as he walked out the door, ‘Although I understand the old lady can look after herself quite well.’

*

He was shaking so hard when he came out of Joe’s club that he could not trust himself to drive his own car and had to hail a taxi.

He was not shaking for fear of what he had just done, but the fear of what he was about to do. Even though he knew that it was the right thing to do, the only thing to do, his fear of failure was greater than it had ever been.

Iggy had not been afraid since he was a small boy. That was because he never wanted anything badly enough to be afraid of not getting it. He had a lot of money, but it meant nothing to him. If it all went in the morning he knew he would be fine with that. The great empire he had built up was simply a way of keeping control over his place in the world. It was as much to do with the lifestyle of moving from office to office, country to country, place to place, people to people – keeping separate – as it was to do with a sense of satisfaction of all he had ‘achieved’.

Iggy knew that he could achieve anything he set his mind to, and with all his money and success, he could have anything he wanted. The one thing, the only thing Iggy Morrow believed was beyond him, that had eluded him, was love. All his life, ever since he was a little orphan boy, Iggy had wanted a family. Sheila was as close as he had ever got to one in forty years. As he said to the taxi driver, ‘Third and Mill Street, Riverdale,’ the address he had memorized since their first night together, Iggy still believed it was beyond him, but he owed it to himself to try.

As the taxi drove up the leafy streets Iggy could feel his fear rising. All these comfortable houses, filled with comfortable families, eating their meals at the same time every night, watching TV together, leading small, ordinary lives. It was another world to him. And as the taxi drove deeper into suburbia, on every street corner he thought about telling the driver to turn back. Finally they pulled up outside the house.

‘Is this it?’ the driver asked.

‘I don’t know,’ he replied, but he got out and threw twenty dollars at him anyway.

The taxi driver decided to wait. The guy was a generous tipper and he might want to be brought back to the city if it was the wrong place.

Anya opened the door and started slightly. She had been expecting Ruth from the bakery who had promised she would drop by with the cheesecake. The sight of a strange man at her door threw her, especially when he said, ‘Is Sheila there?’

Immediately, Sheila appeared behind her. As he stepped inside, Iggy noticed two large cases in the hallway.

‘Yours?’ he said to Sheila.

She nodded, awkwardly. What was Iggy doing here?

She had decided to quit town before tonight. The big launch would be high profile, and she didn’t want the wrong people hearing about her being the manager. She was going to take a leaf out of Iggy’s book and stay out of the limelight. She’d written Patrick a letter explaining as much to him, because she knew that he would try and persuade her to be there. Possibly even try to protect her if there was trouble. And that wouldn’t do his career any good. Once she was out of the way, Patrick and her family would be safe.

‘I just called to let you know,’ Iggy said, ‘that Joe Higgins won’t be bothering you any more.’

She believed him. Iggy was a force to be reckoned with. Way more powerful than Joe Higgins, but all the same she would never have asked for his help. Who had told him?

‘So you can put those bags away and come back to work.’

Work. That was all this was.

‘I’m not coming back,’ she said. ‘I always said I would move on, and it’s time.’

‘I see,’ Iggy said, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t. There was something that he felt he wanted to say but whatever that something was it had eluded him completely. Or rather, it was so terrifying he could not even put words to it.

Anya was standing near the kitchen door. Utterly enraptured with the scenario, she was keeping as still as she could so that Sheila would not notice her eavesdropping. Sheila saw Iggy’s eyes move shyly across her, turned around and said, ‘Auntie!’

The old lady jumped and Iggy, despite the grave situation he found himself in, laughed.

He leaned past Sheila and held out his hand. ‘You must be Sheila’s Aunt Anya? She’s told me so much about you.’

She virtually ran towards him to take his hand.

‘You’re the big boss man, so nice to meet you,’ she said, almost genuflecting. ‘Why don’t you come in and have some tea? I am expecting a cheesecake delivery at any moment.’

He smiled again and said, ‘That would be delightful.’

‘My husband is out at present, but he should be back at any moment and—’

‘Auntie!’ Sheila said. ‘Please, I need to talk with – Mr Morrow.’

It was painful having him there, standing in her hallway, just as she was about to leave. It was difficult enough leaving Auntie and Uncle. She had not been planning to say goodbye to him as well.

‘Mrs Klein, Anya,’ Iggy said, ‘I would love some tea but first, I have something I need to ask Sheila...’

Sheila turned and gave Anya a wide-eyed stare that said, ‘You see?’ and as she did her aunt’s jaw dropped open and she pulled her hands up to her mouth in a shocked gasp.

When Sheila turned around again, Ignatius Morrow was kneeling in front of her.

‘Sheila Klein,’ he said, ‘would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

For a moment, Sheila stood there, unable to believe what she was seeing. Initially, she actually believed that this was some kind of dreadful joke he was making in front of her little old Jewish aunt.

Then she looked at his face. His expression was grave and slightly cross, as it always was, but kneeling, looking up at her, there was not a hint of scepticism in his eyes. Only a tender pleading. Iggy wasn’t simply asking her to marry him, he was begging her to love him.

She leant down, pulled him up to his feet and glared at Anya until she went away.

‘You don’t need to marry me, Iggy,’ she said. ‘I love you, anyway.’

‘Then you’ll stay?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’ll stay.’

And they kissed, both knowing that Anya was watching from the kitchen door.

‘Will we go back to the Emerald?’ he said. ‘It’s your big night.’

‘Maybe later,’ she said. ‘Patrick can fend for himself for a few hours at least. I think we should stay here and eat cheesecake.’

So that’s what they did.

A
VA
HAD
been unsettled and had barely slept since her afternoon out with Dermot, a week ago. Nessa was beginning to worry that her daughter was sliding back into the listlessness.

In fact, quite the opposite was happening. Ava was thinking about getting her life back on track, and what her next step ought to be.

Seeing Patrick’s poster outside the Emerald had jolted her back down to earth. Not that Dermot’s attentions had her floating on a pink cloud, but she had been enjoying his company. The intrusion of seeing her husband’s smiling, handsome face on that huge poster had immediately given her pause about the wisdom of gadding about with her ex-fiancé.

She saw that Patrick was releasing his first record later that week. So, his dream of being a famous singer was finally coming to fruition and Ava knew she had been an important part of that. How must he be feeling now? she asked herself. Just as everything was coming together for him, his marriage ended and he lost a baby. Ava had not even said goodbye to him, left a note or anything. She had been hurt by what he had done, the terrible betrayal, the way in which she had found out about it and the subsequent terrible loss of the baby, which she had managed to get through without his support.

She began to see that it was not entirely his fault, either. He had come to the house but her father had chased him away. Perhaps if Tom had let Patrick into the house that day, and they had talked, all of this would be behind them now.

Rose was out of the picture. She had left town. When Myrtle had told Ava about how she had confronted Rose, Ava had been quite upset. She felt quite sorry for the girl. After all, the only crime she had committed was loving Patrick and following him to America. She knew that Myrtle was only acting out of loyalty and kindness to her, but there was something humiliating about her husband’s lover being banished on her behalf. There was no doubt that Patrick had loved Rose once, enough to get engaged to her. But then, Ava remembered, she had been engaged to Dermot and had left him for Patrick. If Rose and Patrick truly loved each other nothing would keep them apart. Certainly not a threat from Myrtle.