The Life (44 page)

He looked down at her, his face a picture of concern as he said gently, ‘How are you, darling? Looking after yourself, I hope?’

Unable to speak, she didn’t answer him, but she could feel herself blushing with embarrassment. She was willing the floor to crack open and swallow her up.

Petey was clearly nervous, terrified of her opening her mouth, but she couldn’t do that without putting herself in it as well. She could still see him, naked and sweating, hear his grunting as
he lay on top of her, and she tried to block out the images. For the thousandth time she asked herself what she had been thinking. She could only tell herself that she had been grieving, and incapable of rational decisions.

‘Come on, Mum, I’ll drop you and Mel home. Dad’s taken your car – he’s got a bit of business.’

Ria was irritated. ‘Why couldn’t he go and pick his own car up? I wanted to go to the supermarket.’

Imelda said quietly, ‘He can’t use the same car all the time, Mum – think about it.’

Ria didn’t answer, but she understood her daughter’s meaning. Peter needed to keep well away from his usual routines; whoever had planted the bomb could be waiting for their next chance. Her husband was all over the place these days, and he chopped and changed cars two or three times a day. She sighed heavily; the Life could be very dangerous, but it was also the only life any of them knew. It was far too late to change now. ‘Come on, then, let’s get this show on the road.’

‘You go on. I’ll stay for a bit with Tania.’ Theresa was watching everything with her beady eyes – she missed nothing.

Tania sat there unable to do anything as they bustled about, putting on coats, and chatting about this and that. When they finally left she sighed with relief.

Theresa was aware there was something going on between this girl and Petey, and she was wise enough to know that it wasn’t anything good. Petey was her grandson, but she knew he was capable of taking this young girl down, relative or not. He was a womaniser and, like all womanisers, no female was safe around him. That Bernadette was never going to change him, no matter how hard she might try to convince herself she could. He was incapable of fidelity, and her granddaughter was ripe for the picking. She hated that she could think such thoughts about
her own grandson, but she was nothing if not a realist – even where her family were concerned.

Tania was her own double in looks, from her full breasts and tiny waist, to her thick wavy hair. She was also as green as the proverbial grass, and that was something that needed to be remedied sooner rather than later. Theresa grasped her grand-daughter’s hand in hers and, smiling, she said, ‘Things will look better one day, Tania, it just takes time. Time is a great healer. I should know that. I looked at young Petey today and I saw his granddad – he is so like him! And he doesn’t just look like him – he has the same ways as well. He’s a fucking nightmare around women, as was his granddad.’

She grinned, and Tania could see the remnants of her former beauty in her smiling face.

‘I’d never seen a black man until I came to London, can you believe that? Let alone spoken to one! But when I met him that night, I thought all my birthdays and Christmases had arrived at once. He could charm the birds off the trees. Well, he charmed my drawers off anyway!’ She was laughing at the memory. ‘I was young – younger than you – in a strange city, and I was so lonely. He homed in on that, and I was happy just to have the attention. He left me with a belly full of arms and legs, and nothing more than a few good memories. If I hadn’t have met him, I would have married a good Irish boy, banged out a squad of children, and the Bailey boys wouldn’t have existed.’

Tania was pleased that her nana felt she was old enough to understand about life. ‘Did you love him, though, Nana?’

Theresa blew her lips out in derision. ‘What’s love? I was too young. I just mixed up sex and love, darling, and I won’t be the last young girl to make that mistake, I’m sure.’

Tania smiled tremulously. ‘Did you miss your family, Nana? I know they never acknowledged you again.’

Theresa thought about it for a few moments before she answered her granddaughter. ‘I did, at first. But my father once called your Uncle Peter a sunburned Irishman and, after that, if they had ever tried to get in contact – which they didn’t – I wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with them anyway. My baby boy was everything to me, you see – he was my blood.’

Tania felt an enormous sadness for her nana; she had been alone from such a young age, and that must have been so hard.

Theresa kissed the girl’s soft hand; she saw the nails bitten down to the quick, and the sadness that was in her lovely face. This was a young girl who had far too much to cope with, and who was far too young for what life had dished out. ‘Listen to me, Tania. You’re all over the place at the moment. You’ve had a terrible shock to your system, and you’re vulnerable. You keep that in mind, my little darling, and please don’t do anything you might regret. There’re a lot of men like your cousin Petey out there in the big wide world, and they are only out for themselves – don’t you ever forget that. They should have a government health warning stamped across their arses!’

Tania looked at her nana and, smiling slightly, she said quietly, ‘I’m nearly eighteen, Nana, I’m not a child.’

Theresa nodded in agreement. ‘I know that, but you’re still a child to me. I just don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all.’

Tania sensed her nana had her suspicions, and she wondered how she would react if she told her outright that her advice had come just a little bit too late.

Danny and Davey were in a private drinking club in Soho. The family had taken the place over a couple of years before in lieu of a debt they were owed by another crew. The money borrowed had been used to purchase drugs – unfortunately, the river police had got wind of the daring escapade and put paid to the new business venture. The debt still had to be honoured though – that was the harsh reality of the Life. There was no insurance in their game, so the crew had signed this place over to the Baileys. They had refurbished it, reopened it, and it was now a popular haunt for minor celebrities and London Faces. It had been a good money-spinner for them, and it was legitimate. They could launder money through there too – another handy advantage.

As they sat in the small office, drinking expensive coffee, they were chatting about their father and his behaviour.

‘I’m worried about him, Dan. I could hear him talking to himself last night. He was making a cup of tea, and I came out of the toilet, and I thought he had someone in the kitchen with him, but he was all on his tod.’

Danny knew his father was gradually losing his grip on reality but, then again, he had never been that rooted in the real world anyway. It was over a month since the bombing and he had watched the man deteriorate day by day. He believed his father
would eventually conquer his grief but, in the meantime, it was almost too painful to witness. He only acted normal with Tania, and that was because he was trying to make up for the loss of her mum.

‘He’s just missing Mum, that’s all, Davey. Like we all are.’

Davey nodded, but he wasn’t so sure. He changed the subject. ‘Who do you think ironed Terrence Allen out, Dan?’

Danny shook his head. ‘Who knows? He wasn’t exactly Mr Popular, was he? Whoever it was, they don’t seem willing to take the credit, do they?’

Davey sighed. There had been a big price on Terry’s head, so why was nobody claiming it? Another mystery to add to the pile.

‘Listen, you get off, Davey. I’ve got a meet with a Filth in a minute. You go and round up the lads, make sure they have collected all the debts. Since the trouble, a lot of people have been taking the piss. I’ll meet you at the Electric Lady later on.’

Davey laughed. ‘That Richard Casey is a cunt. Did I tell you he tried to fucking shake down our Jamsie? Said he had already weighed out the day before. When Jamsie asked him who he had given the poke to, the idiot said some geezer with brown hair.’

Danny laughed at the man’s front. ‘What did Jamsie do?’

Davey grinned and, as he slipped his leather jacket on, he said craftily, ‘He kicked the living shit out of him, and when he had finished, he took his Rolex off his wrist, and smashed it to smithereens. Jamsie is a natural-born enforcer; he has just the right amount of tact and force – know what I mean?’

Danny laughed with his brother. ‘I know. He is coming into his own, our Jamsie. Not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, admittedly, but he has the right temperament for collecting.’

Davey hugged his brother and, as he was taking his leave, he stopped by the doorway, and said seriously, ‘Do you think that
whoever was behind the bombing might be lulling us into a false sense of security? I mean, why ain’t they fucking following through? Even the Russians have said as much to me. That big one, Sergei – who, incidentally, I personally think is gayer than a Mexican tablecloth – said that a bombing was generally a first strike, that it was about confusing your enemy, and while they were regrouping you then had the opportunity to do even more damage.’

Danny could see the logic; the same had already occurred to him, but he was keeping his own counsel for the time being. He wasn’t willing to share his thoughts until he had some kind of proof.

‘I think that is something we should bear in mind but, until we have a name, or at the very least a fucking reason for it, there’s nothing we can do.’

Davey sighed in frustration. ‘I suppose so, but it’s fucking doing my head in, I know that much.’

Danny laughed. ‘Join the fucking club.’

When his brother left, Danny Bailey opened the desk drawer and, taking out a large wad of money, he placed it in an envelope. Then he waited patiently for his guest to arrive.

Theresa was tired; the last few weeks had taken more of a toll than she was willing to admit. She wasn’t a spring chicken any more, that was for sure. She loved her little house and her boys had always looked after her – she was a fortunate woman in that respect. Tommy Barker was still with her, and they made a good couple – they both liked a few drinks, a good meal and, more to the point, they were both of a like mind about most things. She was sad that her days of wild coupling were over, but there was more to life than that. She and Tommy still had their moments; they were few and far between but, as he said, there was life in the old dogs yet! Most importantly, they were company for each other, and she felt she was lucky to have found someone like him to end her days with.

Lena’s death had hit her harder than she let on – that she had outlived her daughter-in-law was difficult to comprehend. Her Daniel was a man bereft, he had worshipped that woman, and he was not coping well. He had cried in her arms the night she died, and she had held him like a child for the first time in over fifty years. It had been so painful to watch – he had tried to get to the car, or what was left of it anyway. He had acted like a man demented.

As she held him that night, the years had rolled back and he was just her boy again, the boy she would protect with her own life if needed. It had been hard for her, seeing him so distraught, so broken. Even though he was a grown man, he was still her youngest son, her baby.

She glanced at the clock and, hearing a car door slam, she made her way out into her kitchen. As she put the kettle on, she heard the front door open, and she called out, ‘I’m in the kitchen.’

Petey Bailey came into the room; he filled the space up with his bulk. He used his size to his advantage at every opportunity. He was nothing like his father – her son had never needed to prove anything to anyone.

‘Where’s Tommy?’

‘He’s gone to the club. You know him and his bloody poker!’

Petey grinned. ‘He’s a game old fucker, Nana, you’ve got to give him that.’

She nodded happily. ‘True. Actually, that was why I wanted to see you.’

He sat down at the small table, and waited until she had poured out their teas before saying, ‘Come on then, what’s the big secret?’

She opened the biscuit tin, and placed it in front of him before sitting down opposite him and saying. ‘You’re gambling again, ain’t you?’

Petey sipped his tea before answering her. ‘Who told you that?’

She shrugged easily. ‘Tommy, of course. He was in a big game over in Ilford last Friday, and your name came up.’

He didn’t answer her, instead he concentrated on his tea and waited for her to carry on. He was fuming, but he wasn’t going to let her know that.

‘I know you won’t appreciate me bringing this up, but you know what your father thinks about it, and it’s better you get a tug from me than him. Because he
will
find out – especially the way you carry on. Twenty-five large in one night? It’s no wonder you’re being talked about! Use your loaf, Petey – that kind of money brings attention you don’t want.’

‘I can handle it.’ He was defiant, like a little kid, and she felt the urge to slap him across his face. He was weak and arrogant.

‘I hope so, because your father will go fecking ape if he hears about it.’

Petey sighed heavily. ‘I’m not a kid, Nana, I’m a fucking grown man in case you haven’t noticed.’

She raised her eyebrows.

‘It’s my own money, hard-earned money at that. I ain’t fucking stupid.’

She had said her piece; it was pointless to labour it. And anyway she had something else she needed to get off her chest.

She looked at him shrewdly, and said just two words: ‘Young Tania.’

Petey felt fear tighten his stomach muscles, and he looked at her warily. ‘What about her?’

Theresa knew straightway her suspicions were correct. ‘She has a crush on you, God help her.’

She watched his shoulders relax at her words. ‘There’s not a lot I can do about that, Nana. It’s the old Bailey charm.’

‘
Bailey
being the operative word. She’s your cousin.’

Petey looked at his nana; she was as shrewd as she was brutally honest and she was warning him. He shook his head in disbelief.
‘Give me a fucking break, Nana! I know I’m not exactly Mr Faithful, but my own cousin? Shows what you really think about me, don’t it?’