The Life (20 page)

Daniel knew that for his mother to say what she had just said she must be genuinely trying to help him. She had always had his back, both her sons’ backs. He also knew she was right – he was devoid of this so-called moral compass, even if, in all honesty, he felt that was a contradiction in terms. But he knew she was right – there was a morality in the Life, and he had never really understood that fact. He did now though – he knew he had to learn just what the boundaries and guidelines were. His sons were more than aware of how they should all conduct themselves, so he had them to use as a yardstick. Despite
all this, his mother’s words hurt, even though he knew she had the best intentions.

He smiled. ‘I’ll see you later then, Mum. The Shandon Bells, eh? I bet Father Murphy will be there. He does like a drink, the old ponce.’

Theresa grinned at her son, but she was aware that he had listened to her advice; whether or not he would choose to use it was anybody’s guess. ‘Don’t we all, son! Eventually, when you get to my age, the drink is all you’ve got to look forward to.’

Daniel Bailey looked at his mother and, sighing sadly, he said gently, ‘You’re a good ’un, Mum, and I love you very much.’

‘Well, are you going to show me or what?’ Jack Bailey was laughing as he spoke, and his cousins Noel and Jamsie, who were with him, laughed too.

George Theodopolis, however, wasn’t laughing; he knew he was in serious trouble. ‘Come on back to my office, boys, I’ve got your envelope waiting.’

Jack Bailey shook his head angrily, and replied in a sarcastic yet humorous tone, ‘Bollocks to you, George! This is the third week we have requested our due. Now, me and my cousins have had to come in person, take time out of our busy lives to collect from you. I ask you, is that fair on us? I mean, in reality, who the fuck are you? You’re a cunt who believed we would overlook the insult.’ He looked around him with wide eyes, the eternal innocent. Then, grinning nastily, he said viciously, ‘So, I ask you again, cunt, show us your club. If you don’t, we will take it down around your fucking ears. Brick by brick, punch by punch.’

George knew what was going to happen now. It was his own fault, but he’d had to try; after all, no one paid out without a good reason. Now he was backed into a corner – once they saw his premises he would have to pay more than his usual wage; unfortunately, this was the way of the world he lived in.

Jack knew all this; he had already done his research, and he had been looking forward to taking this Greek ponce down a few pegs. He had a natural bent for this type of work. He
researched his marks without being told to, and he had known instinctively that they were not getting their due from this one. His cousins had both stood back and let him run the show, recognising his talent for the job. But this place was not like the pubs or the cab ranks he usually dealt with – this was a different ball game altogether. Jack liked the idea of an all-day drinking club, a place to hang out, where girls were in abundance, and where he was not liable to be treated like a kid. He saw the potential here.

Jack was a ladies’ man – he had a permanent erection and he preferred faceless sex. The girls who worked here were on an earn, so they would not be too fussy. At twenty-one he was shrewd enough to know that, if he played his cards right, the possibilities were endless.

‘Please, boys, I can pay. I promise you.’

Jack smiled at his cousins; they were not yet
au fait
with his way of working, but they soon would be. He would see to that.

As he walked into the club, Jack could smell the cheap perfume, the stink of old lager and could see the stains on carpets that only looked good late at night. He saw the interest on the girls’ faces, and he responded to them instinctively, drinking in their fake smiles and their fake cleavages. This was shag central to him; this was what he had been dreaming of for years. Jack Bailey felt like he had finally come home.

His two cousins were impressed with his confidence; if they followed his lead their lives would be enriched in more ways than they had ever imagined. Jack Bailey was born to spread it about; this job made it all the easier for him to do that, and he embraced it with every bit of energy he possessed. He grinned at his cousins and, winking, he said pleasantly, ‘Noel, Jamsie, follow the man, and count the money. I have to acquaint myself
with the premises, and the females within it, as I am sure you both understand.’

As he sat down with the girls, and saw them smiling at him as if he was a male model or a movie star, he knew his father had inadvertently given him the world on a plate and for that alone he would always be thankful.

‘All right, girls? So what’re your names, then?’

The girls, for their part, knew a mug when they saw one, and this mug was obviously someone of note. They gave him their best smiles, and invited him into their group without a second’s thought. This was, after all, a hostess club.

‘She is a fucking stripper, Liam! Will you get a grip!’ Imelda Bailey was clearly annoyed; she didn’t like that her brother was being taken for a fool. What was it with her brothers and strippers?

‘I don’t care, I like her.’

Imelda rolled her eyes at the ceiling. ‘Strippers are like pros, Liam, they just see the money. You go out with her, do what you like, but you do
not
treat her as a real girlfriend. I’m trying to help you here. You are a fucking complete idiot where women are concerned.’

‘She’s nice.’

Imelda grabbed him by the shoulders and shouted, ‘She’s nice to everyone, you idiot! She flashes her clout for a fucking living! For fuck’s sake, Liam, don’t let anyone see that you really care for her, or you will be slaughtered! All I’m saying is, have a bit of discretion, OK?’

Liam nodded. But he couldn’t help his feelings. Mandy, as she was called, rang every bell he possessed. Nice tits, tight snatch, and she treated him like a king. He couldn’t help it – he went through the girls like water, was always on a love job of sorts.

‘Your job is to run this club, Liam, with me. And you do a good job. Then a new stripper arrives and you fall in love! It’s not right, Liam – you need to differentiate between the strippers and real birds. That’s all I am saying.’

Liam just grinned and Imelda sighed in frustration – she knew she was wasting her time. Liam, who was a good guy, had a weakness for women in him. He was attracted to the strippers and, unlike the other boys, he actually dated them. Handsome fucker he was, so she could understand the girls’ interest in him, but she was determined that not one of them would ever get a foot in his doorway. Not on her watch anyway.

Imelda actually liked this Mandy Wright; she was a genuinely lovely girl. The hardest part was that, since Imelda had taken over the Soho clubs, she had seen a different side to it. She’d become a part of the girls’ lives and seen the reality of their situations. Mandy had a two-year-old boy, a nice little kid called Bernard who she worshipped, and who was the reason she stripped for a living. She had no real education, no real family in the background to help her out, and she was doing what she had to, to get by: stripping for a living. Through that, she paid her rent, and fed and clothed her boy. But she was still a fucking stripper, a Jack the Ripper as the slang went, and Liam needed to understand that there was a fine line, and once you stepped over it, you lost your credibility.

‘Look, Liam, I like Mandy, she is a nice girl.’

‘I’m glad to hear it, sis, because this time it’s for real. I love her.’

Liam laughed at his sister’s expression. She was fantastic, his Imelda, but she had no idea how his mind worked. He didn’t give a toss what his bird did for a living – he thought she was the proverbial dog’s knob, and that was enough as far as he was concerned.

Daniel looked at Tommy Barker with genuine interest. He had picked up on the fact that his mother really did like him and, from what he could see, he liked her. He had done his homework, and it seemed that Tommy was a straight arrow. He had murdered someone, granted, but it seemed he was well within his rights, and he had done his time – and a serious fucking lump at that. He had come out, was still on licence, he had a bit of an earn – a good earn in fact – and he had more or less kept his nose clean. He was well respected by his peers, and it looked as if he genuinely liked his mother’s company.

His mum was notorious for outing her paramours within a few weeks; she had always had her diversions, but she had never brought a man into her sons’ lives. Both Peter and Daniel had appreciated that. Ironically, at this late stage, it now seemed to be a distinct possibility.

Daniel was surprised that he didn’t really care either way. Years before, he knew that if she had brought a man into their home, he would have felt honour-bound to see that he was removed, would have seen his presence as a fucking insult. As a rival almost, he supposed, shocked at the thought. Now, though, he didn’t really care. She was old and he was a grown man with his own family. She still looked out for him – as today had proved – but she was entitled to her own life now. He
wondered briefly if that was a good thing, and found he couldn’t answer that question.

Lena seemed wary of the old fucker, but Tania had taken to him straight off. She seemed to like him, and they said that kids had a built-in radar. This Tommy Barker was a big old lump. In his day he would have been someone to respect, he would have been – in fact, from what Daniel had heard,
had
been – a man who people were wary of, who had a decent reputation. Even now, as old as he was, he still had a certain air about him; you could see he had been a serious fucking handful in his day.

Daniel stood up. ‘What can I get you, Tommy? The drinks are on me.’

Tommy Barker had his arm around Theresa. He inclined his head. ‘I’ll have a large Scotch, Daniel, thank you very much.’

When Daniel eventually placed the drink on the table in front of Tommy Barker, he leaned towards him, and said quietly into his ear, ‘You hurt my mother and you will have to deal with me.’

Tommy downed the Scotch in one swallow before he answered seriously, ‘I wouldn’t expect anything else from you, son. It’s your mother. But remember this, I’m an old hand, and I don’t take kindly to threats.’

Daniel Bailey laughed out loud. He liked this old boy, he was one of the old guard. ‘I’ll drink to that, mate.’

Lena watched it through frightened eyes and, even when Theresa squeezed her hand, grateful that she was that they had made up, she still felt the terror inside her. She didn’t want to be a part of this world, and she was determined to make sure, no matter what her mother-in-law said, that she was not going to become a part of the Life, and neither was her daughter.

Mandy Wright looked at the man asleep beside her in her bed and marvelled at how this had all come about. She had sworn that she would not get involved with another man, and now here she was lying in bed with Liam Bailey. She had been determined to keep herself to herself, and just take care of her little boy. Now she had to admit that she had completely ignored her own advice – and she had allowed herself, once more, to fall for a man who she knew would hurt her.

Liam was handsome, kind – everything she wanted in a man – but she also suspected he was not a man who was looking for a partner for life. He had an eye for the ladies and why not? He was young, and he had the looks and the money to chase whatever and whoever he wanted. He came from a powerful family, he could write his own ticket. But it had only taken one look and, even though she knew he was a player, she couldn’t stop herself; once he had shown an interest in her she had melted. She had given herself to him without hesitation. This time, though, she was on the pill; now she knew more about life and all its pitfalls, so at least there would not be another child.

Mandy had been in care on and off for most of her life. Her parents were upper middle class; her mother was a drunk, who self-medicated with tranquillisers, and her father was a lawyer. He was also a drunk, but a very violent one who, along with her
mother, believed that his education and his background meant that they didn’t have to live by the rules of normal people.

It was only when she was eight – and her mother had beaten her unconscious – that Mandy had finally been taken into care; a broken arm and fractured skull had been too much for her parents to explain away. A new social worker, Janice Carter – all love beads and afghans and still so new to the job she wasn’t intimidated by the Wrights’ pedigree – had removed her from them immediately. Mandy had been so grateful; for the first time in her life she had slept in a clean bed, had eaten three square meals a day, and attended school regularly. She had felt safe for the first time in her young life.

Over the years she had been reunited with her mother and father many times, but it had never been a success for any of them. Her mum and dad were so self-obsessed, and they had only fought for her for appearances’ sake and then, when they got her, all they saw was their biggest failure. They knew their daughter saw them for what they were, not as the people they tried so desperately to portray.

Both sets of grandparents had washed their hands of their offspring long before she had arrived on the scene and, on the few occasions she had met them, they had not shown any real interest in her. Going into care had been her salvation; as bad as it was, it had at least afforded her a degree of security, something she had never before experienced in her young life.

She had eventually left the care system at sixteen, and immediately fallen for a young man who lived in the same bed and breakfast. He had been the product of the care system himself; he had given her a child and promptly disappeared. Amanda hadn’t really expected anything else, if she was honest; everyone in her life had let her down up till then. But she had kept her little boy, and she loved him with a passion. She had been
determined that she would give him the love that she had never had, and that
he
would never feel unwanted or inadequate.