The Life (26 page)

The TV was loud, and she was just about to ask her husband to turn it down but, as she opened her mouth to speak, he hushed her with a furious wave of his arm. The newsreader’s voice was tinny in the quiet of the room.

‘Two men were found murdered last night in East London. They had both been shot, execution style, in the back of the head. Police have named them as Gerald and Patrick Daly, two brothers from the Liverpool area. Police are treating the murders as gangland-related, and have appealed for anyone who might have any information regarding this incident to call them . . .’

Lena saw the way her sons looked at one another, and she knew that the news they had just heard was somehow relevant to both of them.

Daniel had finally turned the TV down and, sitting at the table, he opened his newspaper and started to read it without a word. But the atmosphere in the room was heavy with menace, and she could feel the animosity pouring from her husband. Lena wanted to scream in frustration at the futility of it all.

‘You want any more toast, lads? You got enough?’

They both shook their heads mutely, and she felt so sorry for them, but she knew that she could not interfere.

Ten minutes later they left the house, and the atmosphere immediately lightened.

Daniel got up and walked to the back door,

‘Look at that garden, Lena, like a painting, ain’t it? The gardener says we can expect colour all year round. What do you
think of that, eh? He’s a nice old boy, knows his onions so to speak!’

Lena smiled dutifully. ‘Is everything all right with the boys, Daniel?’

He laughed. ‘It is now, Lena, so don’t worry about it. I’ve had to pull them into line, that’s all.’

She sighed. As always she chose to believe him, that was always easiest.

Daniel watched her for a few minutes. ‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, Lena! What the fuck is wrong with you lately, girl? You’re walking round like a fucking tit in a trance! Are you feeling all right, love? Are you sickening for something?’

She knew she should say how she felt right this minute, but she couldn’t do it. He loved this house so much, he enjoyed it on every level, he even sat on the patio and read his paper, pleased as punch that he was able to do it, that he was learning how to appreciate this new way of life. Why couldn’t she do the same?

‘I’m just tired, Daniel. The move and everything took it out of me, that’s all. It’s been a busy couple of months.’

He was happy with her answer, and that irritated her for some reason, even though she knew he believed every word she said.

‘Right then, darling, I better get a move on. I need to sort out a few things today.’

He kissed her gently on the lips, and she kissed him back; she did love him still.

Then, placing his hands gently on her shoulders, he looked into her face for a few moments, before saying softly, ‘Enjoy this house, Lena,
please
. I got it for
us
, for me, you and little Tania. It’s bought and paid for, and it’s in your name, so even if I get a capture tomorrow and they give me thirty years, this is still all yours, mate.
No one
can take it away from you. I know you are a fucking hoarder, I know you hide money everywhere, but I
swear to you, Lena, we are rich, girl, seriously rich. So stop it, love.’

She was so pleased he had noticed that she was upset, that she smiled widely as she said, ‘Oh, Dan, I really thought you didn’t know I was missing the old place. I can’t seem to settle here.’

‘Well, in all honesty, I’m not surprised, are you? Considering Ria chose everything! Go out, go up west, and buy your own bloody furniture – get a proper table, at least. That glass thing is like something from
Tomorrow’s World
! I don’t like looking at me feet when I’m eating me dinner!’

She was laughing with him now. He was right – she had been so worried about what should go into a house like this, she had forgotten that, no matter what, it was still her home. Her family’s home.

‘You’re right, Dan. I will buy a new table at least – I hate this bleeding thing too, it feels cold, somehow. I like a nice bit of wood myself.’

Daniel Bailey laughed out loud. ‘Get what you like, you dozy mare! Just cheer up, will you?’

She beamed, but couldn’t stop herself from asking again, ‘Are the boys all right really, Daniel? I know you have been annoyed with them, and I hate it when there’s a bad feeling in the air, you know?’

He grinned. ‘Look, they were out of order, but I’ve sorted it now. So stop worrying, and just start relaxing and enjoying our new home, eh? They’re moving out soon anyway. They’ve all bought flats – with my fucking money, of course! It’s time they started looking after themselves.’

She smiled, but she still felt uneasy. Gangland murders were not something she could overlook as easily as her husband could.

Peter Bailey had heard the news concerning the Daly brothers’ demise within minutes of it happening – as had his brother. Peter had made sure that everyone in the family was well within the public arena as it was going down. There was no way it could lead back to them, no matter what people might think. It had not been cheap, but he had not expected it to be.

Everyone assumed the Daly boys had been chastised severely because they had gone on the rob without the Baileys’ permission and no one would argue with that. Even their own families had been forced to wipe their mouths; the brothers had disregarded any kind of protocol and that could not be overlooked. The main thing was that no one knew the real reason – that they had involved the younger Bailey boys in their affairs. It was imperative that no one saw that there were any weak links in the family.

It had also been a warning to each of the younger Bailey boys of what could happen if you didn’t toe the line. No one worked anything without it being discussed and, more importantly, agreed by them all. That was the only way they could keep themselves safe – the fewer outsiders involved in the big decisions, the better for everyone in the long run.

He sat at his desk and wondered how Daniel was going to move forward. His brother was still fuming over Noel and Jamsie’s foolishness, but Peter believed that’s all it was – young
men being foolish, trying to prove themselves; there had been no malice in it.

Peter felt old suddenly. He’d heard, of course, that Daniel was doing a great job with the money laundering, and he was impressed with just how well his brother had done. Tommy Barker still oversaw the business, but that was a formality really; Daniel was a natural at it. He also had the temperament needed to deal with the Russians – they were like Daniel in many ways; they were violent criminals, who were not only uneducated, but were also devoid of any social graces. A match made in heaven really.

Daniel, like him, was earning more than enough on a weekly basis, and they were both teaching their boys the ropes. The sons were still very close, and that was very important because, as a family – as the Baileys – they were a formidable team.

The fly in the ointment, as far as Peter was concerned, was his youngest, Jack. Something was up with him, but Peter wasn’t quite sure what yet. As the youngest, Jack had grown up a bit of an attention seeker. He had plenty of swagger and with his looks had no problem attracting women. He was a natural for the business and Peter had been happy to give him free rein at running his drinking clubs. But Jack had been working less and less recently. Peter’s eyes and ears at the clubs reported that he disappeared for long periods and he was very secretive about where he’d been.

Peter suspected that Petey and Liam were protecting him at the moment. But he was convinced that wouldn’t last – eventually they would have to confide in him. That was the nature of the game they all played – nothing stayed a secret for long, not from Peter Bailey anyway.

Tania was watching her mum and her Auntie Ria. They were both very quiet and, as usual, her nana was doing most of the talking. Tania sat with her dollies as quietly as possible – she knew that if they remembered she was in the room, she would be sent out. When they spoke angrily like this or if they spoke to each other very quietly, she was always sent out of the room. So she sat by the side of the sofa as still as a statue, her ears on red alert as she listened to what they were saying.

‘Dear God, are you sure this is true?’ Lena’s voice was hushed, little more than a whisper.

Theresa nodded, her face serious, showing every line she had accumulated over the years, making her look old suddenly. When she was smiling, laughing, you forgot her age – now even Tania could see how different she looked and it frightened her. Lena was watching Ria as the words sank into her brain.

‘My Jack? Are you sure that this is about
my
Jack?’

Theresa was heart-sorry for the burden she was planting on her daughter-in-law, but she knew that the only person who could deliver this kind of news to Peter was his wife. She would go with Ria of course, but only Ria’s presence could keep him from doing something he would regret for the rest of his days.

‘Jack is at my house and Tommy’s there with him. He came to me because he didn’t know where else to go, Ria. He knew he had fucked up, but he also had the nous to know that he
couldn’t sort this out by himself, that this would have a terrible impact on the family if it got out. Now get your Peter on the blower, and make him come to my house, OK? And then we can sort it out from there.’

Ria was reeling. She felt sick, as if she was going to vomit everywhere – she had never felt so ill before in her life. She could happily drop down dead right now, right at this minute, and not care in the least. This was monumental, and she was not sure how best to deal with it. Peter would go ballistic, and she admitted that he would have every right. ‘He’ll kill him, Theresa, he will fucking
kill
him.’

Theresa sighed heavily. ‘That’s why we have to make sure he sees him at
my
house. Now, get your boys to come as well – they’ll have to help Jack if Peter goes for him. I don’t care what you tell them, just get them round mine. Daniel has sent Noel and Jamsie to sort out the body, before someone finds it, and it gets out of hand.’

Ria nodded; she understood what her mother-in-law was telling her. Time was of the essence.

Noel and Jamsie slipped the key into the lock and, opening the door slowly and quietly, they listened intently for any sounds that would tell them the flat was occupied. There was silence.

Shutting the door gently behind them, they screwed up their noses at the sour smell that seemed to pervade the whole place. There were bags of rubbish everywhere they looked – dirty nappies had been left on the floor, along with old clothes, and the odd pile of dirty washing. Toys were scattered along the hallway, and old newspapers, yellowed and brittle with age were strewn around.

It was a typical tower-block flat; it had a long dim hallway with doors that opened off it to the bedrooms and bathroom then, at the far end of the hallway, a door led them into the front room, and from there another door led into the kitchen. The whole place was filthy.

They walked quietly down the dark hallway and, opening each door as they went, they both checked the rooms thoroughly. The first room had nothing in it at all except for a battered, old-fashioned cot. Somebody had once painted it white, but now it was chipped and ingrained with years of dirt and neglect. The mattress was stained and ripped. A single blanket had been folded up and placed neatly at the bottom, and it looked incongruous compared to the rest of the room. The wallpaper was hanging off the walls, the floors were bare
and there wasn’t even a curtain at the window to say that the child who had once graced that cot had ever had someone who cared about them.

The other rooms were in a similar condition; it was only when Noel opened the front-room door, that the two brothers stopped abruptly.

‘Fucking hell, Jamsie, this is mental.’

The girl was lying half on and half off a very dilapidated, dirty PVC sofa. It had once boasted orange nylon cushions but they were now a dull brown – years of neglect had seen to that. The rest of the room was as filthy as everywhere else in the flat. The coffee table and floor were covered with pieces of tin foil, used needles, and all the other paraphernalia and debris that junkies seemed to collect. Amongst it was a dog-eared photo of a smiling baby girl, her deep blue eyes huge in her little heart-shaped face. The dead girl was obviously the child’s mother.

Noel and Jamsie looked around them with complete and utter disgust, unable to comprehend how anyone could choose to live their life like this. The girl’s body was already going rigid but, even in death, you could still see the girl she had once been before the drugs had taken over her life. Her face was bruised – she had obviously taken a battering at some point in the last few days – her lips were blue, and slightly parted, and her eyes were glazed.

They checked the rest of the flat – there was no sign of the child.

Noel opened his coat and took out a whisky bottle full of petrol, and Jamsie followed suit. They poured it everywhere – especially around the sofa – and, as they worked, neither of them said a word.

At the doorway, they paused, taking a final look around to make sure they had not left anything that could be traced back
to Jack Bailey. Satisfied, they lit a book of matches and threw them on to the coffee table. They waited for a few moments to see that the fire had a good hold and then they moved carefully along the corridor, starting a fire in each of the rooms, before finally leaving the flat as quietly and as unobtrusively as they had entered it.

Outside they got into an old banger which, contrary to its appearance, boasted a tuned-up engine that guaranteed them speed should the need arise. It blended into the surroundings so well that no one would give it a second glance.

Noel shook his head in annoyance. ‘What a cunt! Who in their right mind would take fucking heroin – it’s a fucking mug’s game. Sell the fucker to animals like her, but keep away from it yourself. Only Jack would be that fucking weak and that fucking stupid.’