The Life (27 page)

The brothers drove away sedately, both relieved that because of Jack the onus had been taken off them. God certainly did move in mysterious ways, as their old mum was forever telling them both, and today it seemed that she was right.

Peter Bailey was still unable to comprehend what his mother and his wife were telling him. He could hear what they were saying, but he could not bring himself to actually believe any of it.

Not his Jack. Never his Jack. He had known there was something going on with him, but he had never dreamed that it could be anything even remotely like this. His baby, his youngest boy, had beaten a fucking defenceless young girl to death while out of his fucking tree on skag? On heroin? His baby was polluting his body with that shit and no one thought to tell him? None of the boys had thought it should have been brought to his attention? Had the world gone fucking mad?

‘Please, Peter, you have to understand that no one thought it would come to this . . .’

Peter snapped his head round and looked at his wife, his Ria, the woman he would have sworn was incapable of keeping something like this a secret.

‘Did you know, Ria? Did you know about this?’

Ria was shaking her head vehemently in denial, and he could see she was terrified. ‘Of course not! I wouldn’t fucking overlook something like that, would I?’

He was nodding, convinced that she was telling him the truth.

In her heart, Ria had had her suspicions – Jack’s sleeping patterns, his erratic moods – all had indicated there was
something not right. But she had
never
thought it might be something like this.

Petey placed a hand gently on his father’s arm, and he was almost thrown into the wall by the strength of his father’s reaction; it was as if the human contact had somehow snapped Peter Bailey out of his trance.

‘Get your fucking hands off me! Now, where is he?’

Petey sighed. ‘Nana wanted him to be here but I sent him away from you. Liam’s with him. I don’t think you should see him yet.’

Peter Bailey laughed nastily. ‘I will ask you once more, son, and only once.
Where the fuck is he?
’

Theresa took a step towards her eldest son.

‘And you, Mother, keep away from me. One more step and I swear I will rip your fucking head off your shoulders. Now, for the last time, where is he?’

Jack Bailey was so frightened that he was unable to breathe properly. He could feel every thump of his heart crashing in his ears.

Daniel Bailey watched his nephew with disinterest; as far as he was concerned, the boy was already dead to him. Oh, he might clean his mess up for him, but that was for the family name more than for this fucking oik. Jack was less than a rabid dog to Daniel now. He had stepped over the line in more ways than one. From what he could gather, he had done the girl in while out of his box, and woke up to see his handiwork. He had then shit himself big time, and run to his nana for help – the weak, useless fucking piece of dirt.

Fucking coward! Well, Peter would not swallow this little lot, he knew that even if the others hadn’t quite grasped that fact yet. Liam had brought him to Daniel’s house while the others tried to talk Peter down. But it was pointless. Jack Bailey was what the Yanks called a Dead Man Walking.

‘Did you inject that shit, Jack?’ he asked conversationally.

Jack looked at his uncle fearfully; he sounded so calm, like he was chatting about the weather or asking after his health. Jack nodded.

‘Well, for what it’s worth you would have been much better off OD’ing, son, ’cos you’re a fucking dead Bailey either way.’

Jack didn’t answer – there was nothing he could say.

Tania could hear her Auntie Ria crying – it was a terrible sound, as if she was struggling for breath. Sitting at the top of her nana’s stairs, Tania could hear everything that was being said.

‘He will kill him, Lena, I know he will. The boys won’t be able to stop him, no one will be able to stop him . . .’ Ria was in despair. Peter would out Jack, son or no son, of that she had no doubt at all. Ria, who’d always had her eyes wide open to the Life, suddenly wished for the blissful ignorance Lena had maintained. What had her boy been thinking? Jack must have known from the moment he took that drug how it would be received if his father found out about it all. This wasn’t something they would ever countenance, it was something that was seen as a weakness, as a sign of mental incapability. You sold drugs, you didn’t fucking take them – not that kind of shit anyway. ‘He’s my baby, Lena, he’s my little boy. Call your Daniel, tell him to hide him, tell him to take him away somewhere . . .’ Ria was distraught, desperate, but she knew it was useless.

Lena still didn’t answer her friend. She rubbed her back gently, unable to say anything to comfort her, and feeling guilty that she was grateful it wasn’t one of her boys. ‘Drink this brandy, Ria. Imelda will be here in a minute.’

Ria didn’t answer her and, after a few moments of grief-driven crying, she was suddenly quiet.

As Lena hugged her friend tightly, she wondered at how they were ever going to get past this. They had the money, the prestige and the cars – they had front-row seats in the Life. But this was the downside. The Life was good, no doubt about that but, as they all knew, it came at a price. At times like this, it was a terrible price, but one that had to be paid no matter what the consequences might be, or who it might hurt. This was the Life at its worst, and poor Ria would have to live with it. They all would.

‘Thanks, Daniel, I appreciate what you’ve done.’

Daniel nodded at his brother. ‘You’d have done the same for me.’

It was strange talking like this, face to face, alone together after such a long time, and they both felt that.

‘How’s Ria?’

Peter shrugged. ‘How’d you think? Women never understand the real economics of this. They think it can all be fucking sorted out. But not this time.’

‘You’re definitely outing him then?’

Peter nodded. ‘What do you fucking think?’

Daniel poured them both a large Scotch. ‘Get that down you, Pete. You’re going to need it.’

Peter necked it in one swallow.

Daniel saw the pallor on his brother’s dark skin, and he felt genuinely sorry for him and his predicament. ‘Truth is, Pete, he was dead from the moment he started using that filth. Junkies are dying from the first hit.’

Peter laughed ironically. ‘He was dead from the minute I found out he was using. Drink is a dangerous enough game, as we know – makes people too fucking loquacious, as the old woman used to say when we were boys. Coke is bad enough, but at least you can wake up with a relatively sensible head. That brown is a different ball game. It eats at you like a cancer. It
steals your soul, turns you into a fucking thief, a liar. It cancels out family, loyalty, everything that is important to most people, but
seriously
important to people like us, people in our game. He is no use to man or fucking beast. He’s weak, Daniel, he’s shown his true colours.’

Daniel Bailey knew the truth of his brother’s words. Junkies were anathema to people in the Life; they were completely untrustworthy and their habit guaranteed that they would betray anyone for a price.

‘Look, Peter, I’ve spoken to a couple of tame Filth. The girl’s death is being treated as a tragic accident – the lads did a good job, she was burned to fuck. So no comebacks from that quarter anyway.’

Peter wiped his nose with a huge hand. ‘Fucking real, ain’t it? Nineteen years old and dead as a fucking doornail. She nicked his stash by all accounts. Like that is supposed to be an excuse or something.’

‘If you want, Peter, I can take care of him for you . . .’

Peter held up his hand. ‘I will do it, but thanks anyway. This is my shit, and I will clear it up.’

Daniel didn’t answer, he would be the same way himself. Somehow his lads’ foray into the world of armed robbery was suddenly no more than a boyish prank. At least they were trying to earn for the family. As fucking idiotic as their antics might have been, there was the knowledge that they were only trying to spread their wings, prove themselves. They had more than redeemed their actions by the way they had sorted Jack’s problem out, quickly, quietly and without asking too many questions. There was hope for that pair of fucking muppets yet it would seem, they had proved that much. He knew one thing, though, he wouldn’t wish this kind of shit on his worst enemies.

‘Do you want me to come with you?’

Peter Bailey was actually pleased by his brother’s offer. After all that had gone down between them, it was good to know that Daniel was willing to stand by him in his darkest hour.

‘No, Dan, but I do appreciate the offer.’

‘How’s Mother taking it?’

Peter Bailey did laugh then, as Daniel had known he would. ‘She will survive. That Tommy Barker is good for her, I think.’

‘She is a lot of things, our mother but, at the end of the day, she is on our side. She will look out for Ria, we both know that, as will my Lena.’

Peter Bailey nodded. He was banking on that.

‘For fuck’s sake, Imelda, shut up about it, will you?’

Imelda was going out of her mind with panic. ‘You can talk to my dad, Delroy, or take
me
to him. I know you know where he is.’

Delroy almost smiled at his wife’s naïve belief that either of them could change the outcome of her brother’s situation. ‘Listen, Mel. Nothing is going to change your father’s mind so get your head round it.’

‘But my mum! What about my mum? She is in bits . . .’

‘And that’s to be expected, but she ain’t a fucking fool, Imelda – she knows your father better than anyone. You make me laugh!
You
insisted on being a part of all this, and now you are, and you do a good job. But
this
is a part of the Life too. No one likes it, but it has to be done. Jack has fucked himself, Mel, so get over it. I liked him – we all did, but he cannot be allowed to swerve this. He could have brought us all down – me, you, the whole fucking shebang. There are some things that can’t be sorted and, in our world, that is fucking rare, granted. But Jack decided to walk his own road, now he has to pay the price. I’m sorry, but if you want to be a part of this Life, you’d better accept it.’

Imelda could not believe what she was hearing. This was her brother, her little Jack, not some fucking romancer no one gave a toss about, and she said as much, but Delroy held up his hand.

‘That’s
enough
, Mel.’

He caught sight of his son in the kitchen doorway; he was obviously frightened. Delroy plastered a smile on his face, well aware that the child was picking up on the negativity between his parents; kids were good at that. ‘You all right, mate?’ He lifted his son into his arms and took him back to his bed. Ten minutes later he was back in their newly refurbished kitchen.

Imelda looked her husband in the eye and said quietly, ‘What if it was
him
, eh? What would you do, Delroy?’ She was genuinely interested in his answer. Delroy knew that she was asking him to tell her what she wanted to hear, but he couldn’t; she had to grasp the seriousness of their life together. Imelda had to understand that this was not a life that you could dip in and out of, once you were in it, you were in it for the duration.

He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘The same as your father, Mel. And a bit of friendly advice – don’t ask questions you don’t really want the answer to.’

Jack Bailey was jonesing in the back of the car and he was jonesing badly. He was sweating, withdrawing and, compounded with his fear, it was worse than he could ever have imagined. He’d never been denied access to his preferred drug before. He needed something to calm him down, but he knew his brothers were not going to provide anything.

‘Will Dad be long do you think?’ In his mind he thought he would get a good hiding, but once that was over he hoped he might have time to go out and score. Or he could easily call a dealer who might come to him if he was incapacitated. All Jack wanted was all this over with.

Jack was completely unaware of just how much trouble he was in – believing his place as the baby of the family would ensure his father’s lenience. He had gone to his nana because she was the only person his father really listened to. His big fear had been his Uncle Daniel – he wouldn’t put it past
him
to shoot him and then go and have his dinner as if nothing untoward had occurred. His Uncle Daniel had a reputation for his hard-nosed attitude to other people’s problems.

His brothers were subdued, but that was to be expected; he had, after all, fucked up big time. Jack was convinced, though, that his mother’s love would provide protection – his dad would never hurt
her
, would never harm her baby boy. His dad loved him – they’d find a way to sort this out to everyone’s satisfaction.

Petey and Liam pulled him from the car gently.

Jack looked around in confusion. ‘Where are we?’

Liam smiled. ‘We’re in Essex. Dad owns a lot of warehouses here, and he wants to talk to you in private.’

Jack entered the building willingly, safe in the knowledge that his nana, his mum and everyone in the family who loved him knew about his fuck-up and wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

Liam turned on the lights while Petey unloaded a carrier bag, pulling out a couple of bottles of whisky and a pack of children’s paper party cups. They looked far too festive in the dimness of the warehouse, far too colourful, and brimming with the promise of good times ahead.

Petey poured a large drink and passed it to his little brother. Jack gulped at it gratefully, all the while thinking that what he could really do with was a joint, something to take the edge off.

‘Sit down, mate.’

Liam pushed a chair towards him, and he sat down. The building had high ceilings, and it was chock full of electrical equipment. Jack guessed this lot came from lorry heists; it was a lucrative business, mainly because the lorry drivers were more than happy to be robbed for a price, especially coming up to Christmas. If he had known about this place he would have asked for an in by now; it was a scam for the future anyway, so the night would not be totally wasted.