The Runaway (54 page)

She didn’t say she loved him back and they were both aware of that fact.

‘So where do we go from here?’

‘I’ll buy a flat and we’ll get married, Cathy. Be a real couple,’ he suggested.

‘If that’s what you want, Tommy.’

He felt a small flicker of annoyance at her answer, but swallowed it down. He wanted her to be as enthusiastic as he was, feel as happy as he felt, even when he knew it was out of the question. But he would make her feel like that in time, he promised himself that much at least.

‘That’s what I want, Cathy,’ he said lovingly.

She kissed him tenderly on the lips, as a sister or a mother might. ‘Then that’s what you shall have.’

 

Richard Gates was beside himself, so angry he could kill.

Cathy Duke, little Cathy, was marrying Tommy Pasquale and everyone was acting as if it was the greatest event since the fucking Coronation!

On top of all that he knew through a series of grasses that Docherty had been back in town though no one was holding up their hand to seeing him. If he’d seen anyone in Soho it would have been Cathy bloody two-faced Duke.

As Gates bellowed at his co-workers, bellowed at his contacts and bellowed at strangers in shops and pubs, he realised that he had a serious problem. Susan P found his behaviour highly amusing and that was more annoying than anything.

‘Very dog-in-the-manger, Richard,’ she chided him.

‘It’s not that, Susan, and you know it. She’s throwing herself away on that bloody fool and someone should tell her.’

Susan P lit a cigarette and blew out smoke noisily. ‘Someone like you, you mean? The girl is happy, the boy is happy, and Desrae is positively delirious, looking forward to grandchildren, if you don’t mind. I think it’s the best thing for Cathy and so does everyone else. It’s only you who seems to be against it, and I know the reason as well as you.’

Richard Gates felt himself blushing and that made him angrier than ever. ‘I should nick you, Susan, and you know
that
as well as I do, but I like to feel I look out for my friends, such as they are. And now, if you want to
stay
my friend, I would advise you to shut your fucking trap.’

Susan screamed with laughter. ‘You know what you need, don’t you, Mr Gates? A good fuck, get it all out of your system. Here, I’ll make you laugh, shall I, give you a good crack? I’ve recently acquired a house in Westminster that was owned by an ex-minister. Now my MPs can canoodle to their hearts’ content because it’s got one of those silly bells that tell them when they have to go and vote. If that doesn’t make you laugh, nothing will. How’s that for giving the establishment one up the arse, eh?’

Richard smiled despite himself. ‘You’re as a mad as a hatter, Sue.’

‘Seriously though, Richard,’ she told him, ‘you really should face up to what you feel, then you can deal with it. Admit the truth, man, get it off your chest. God knows it’s going no further than these four walls.’

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to put his thoughts into words for the first time. ‘I’ve never been a common or garden Old Bill, as you know. I keep my job and rise in it because I make a point of finding out people’s foibles, their little secrets. That way I can play my games in peace. But where that girl’s concerned, I don’t know whether I’m on my arse or my elbow . . .

‘Yes, I admit, I would make love to her if I could. I would make love to her morning, noon and night. And I’ll tell you something else - she’d love it, I know she would. Cathy needs someone like me . . .’

He broke off in mid-sentence and they were both quiet for a while. Then Susan P went over to him and embraced him, a sisterly hug.

‘My God, man, you have got it bad.’

He shook his head in despair. ‘I know that, girl. Don’t I fucking know it?’

‘If you really cared you’d be pleased for her, because she’s happy now.’

Richard laughed, a humourless sound. ‘But that’s just it, Susan.
Is
she happy?’

Cathy tried on the white suit once more and modelled it for Desrae. It was a lacy Ossie Clarke number which made her look taller, slimmer, and much more sophisticated. Desrae himself was like a cat with a whole pint of cream, absolutely over the moon to have this chance of dressing himself up in some expensive new finery. He had chosen a dark purple creation for the wedding, with a purple and orange hat and handbag as matching accessories.

In the six weeks since Joey’s death and the subsequent events, Cathy felt she had gained a modicum of peace. She would soon be Mrs Tommy Pasquale and would have a lovely flat of her own in Soho. Tommy had wanted to move out to Hampstead or even Knightsbridge, but Cathy was adamant that she wanted to stay there.

He knew she needed to be near Desrae and eventually agreed that it would be the best thing for a while. Cathy knew that Tommy wasn’t too pleased about it, but he would do whatever she wanted and she loved him for that. As time had gone by she had found herself caring more for him than she’d expected to. He was kind, considerate, and loved her so much it was painful to see at times.

Suddenly, Desrae stopped his chatter about the wedding and put a blunt question to Cathy.

‘Have you seen the doctor, love?’

She blushed. ‘What for?’

‘Because you’re pregnant, of course.’ Cathy was annoyed and it showed. Desrae was unrepentant. ‘I know your cycle better than you do, love. You’re pregnant all right, so why don’t you just admit it?’ One of his foibles was the fact that he loved to buy Cathy’s sanitary wear. He obviously hoped that the people in the shop would think it was for him, though he would never admit that to anyone.

‘I think I’m just late, that’s all, Desrae. Joey’s death and everything else, I think it’s just delayed things.’

‘You and I both know that’s a load of old cods, love.’ He put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Do you know who the father is?’

Cathy didn’t answer for a moment.

She had resented Madge because she didn’t know who had fathered her child, and now Cathy herself was in exactly the same predicament.

‘Of course I do. It’s Tommy.’

Desrae sighed. ‘All right then, if that’s what you say, then it’s Tommy. I hope it’s his, meself, but I’m not too sure about you, love. What do you really think, or should I say want?’

‘I know that Tommy is the father, I just know. Women do.’ This was said in such a way as to leave Desrae in no doubt that it was something he could never experience.

‘Well, obviously you’re being a bit of a crosspatch. I’ll just put it down to you being in the club. What does Tommy think about it all?’

‘I haven’t told him yet, not until I’m really sure.’

Desrae looked out of the window and said airily, ‘Oh look, there’s a dirty great pig flying over Greek Street. So, let’s talk about this properly, shall we? When are you going to tell him? He’ll be over the moon, you know that.’

‘With respect, Desrae, I’ll tell him when I’m ready and not before. It’s my baby, my life and my decision.’

‘I’m well aware of that but I hope you haven’t forgotten the fact you are marrying that boy in two weeks’ time. I hope you’ve plucked up the courage to tell him something this important by then or what chance does your marriage have?’

Cathy collapsed on to the sofa and started to cry gently. ‘I think it’s Tommy’s but I can’t be sure.’

Desrae hugged her consolingly. ‘You’ll know when it’s born. If it looks Italian it’s your man’s, and if it looks Irish then it’s Mr Charisma’s. That’s easy enough, eh?’ he joked. ‘Anyway, they’re both dark so it won’t make one iota of difference to young Tommy. He’ll love it, believe it’s his and take good care of it. Now stop worrying, will you? Just enjoy yourself. Christ knows we need something to cheer us up, all of us.’

‘I feel so guilty. I’m doing what me mum did. I’m having a child and I have no idea who fathere—’

Desrae interrupted her. ‘Listen, love, at least you can narrow it down to two. With people like your mum it could have been one of hundreds! So stop berating yourself and enjoy it all. I’m really looking forward to being a grandmother. ’

‘You’re right,’ Cathy said, and brightened up. ‘So long as it’s got me and you, it’s going to be OK.’

Desrae smiled, but it bothered him that poor old Tommy wasn’t even brought into the equation.

 

A fortnight later, Desrae sat in his kitchen and thought about the day ahead. It was to be a quiet wedding, just himself, Casper as best man, Susan P, and the bride and groom. Tommy’s mother had shown no inclination to attend and neither had his sisters.

Desrae felt sad and lonely this morning. Even though Cathy would only be moving around the corner, he would miss her presence in the flat. Miss having someone to talk to, to be with, to look after. But, as he lectured himself, if he had been a real mother, this day would have come eventually. And there was the baby to look forward to.

He and Cathy would make sure that her child had all the things they’d never had: security, love and money. Plenty of money. Children needed to be cushioned from the harsh realities of life, needed people and money behind them to become somebody. In his mind he wove dreams of private schools, with himself decked out in all his finery watching the child collect a degree or whatever it was people got in private schools.

He had a goal in life once more. He would be Cathy’s right arm, her mother and father rolled into one. With her child he would redeem himself from a life of promiscuity and sexual gratification. There would never be another Joey. Fortunately, Joey had left Desrae with enough money that he need only keep his punters if he wanted them. But he did not want them any more.

He would retire, and take on the club full-time. Be there for Cathy and the baby and make sure that they all lived happily ever after, Tommy included.

He stared at the purple creation hanging on the back of the kitchen door and beamed with pleasure.

The photos would be wonderful with his Zandra Rhodes outfit and Cathy’s lace suit. It was a bit austere as far as he was concerned, but he knew Cathy didn’t like bright colours as much as he did. You only had to listen to her go on about the flat. Wanted it all like Susan P’s, all white walls and glass and minimalist, whatever the fuck that meant.

Once a baby was crawling all over the place, those white walls would be a no no all right, Desrae thought smugly.

As the 8.30 news was announced he put some toast on and plugged in the kettle. A cup of Rosie Lee and a bit of Holy Ghost, that’s what his little girl wanted this morning.

Humming, he prepared a tray with a rosebud in a vase to set it off and went to wake Cathy. He knocked on the door and went in, looking down at the girl who had become like his own flesh and blood and feeling tears well up in his eyes. She looked so childlike, so beautiful in sleep, that it made Desrae feel as if he were looking on a great painting or sculpture. Leaving the tray by the bed, he shook her awake gently.

‘Come on, sleepyhead. It’s the big day today.’

Cathy, who was dreaming of Eamonn, a nice home and a lovely baby, opened her eyes and burst into tears.

Desrae hugged her tightly. ‘It’s just wedding day nerves, love. Come on, eat up your breakfast and I’ll run you a bath. Then you’ll be as right as rain.’

But she wasn’t and they both knew why.

The deed was finally done nevertheless and Casper was making a speech at the reception in the club. All the girls had turned up there as a surprise and Cathy was glad to see them. They had all tried to outdo each other with their outfits and Susan P had admired each and every one of them.

One particularly tall transsexual was dressed as Cilla Black and really did look like her. After requests from everyone he had sung
Step Inside, Love
with great conviction. Cathy told him that when they opened the new club, he would be better off miming.

Now Casper was making his speech and his words brought a lump to the throat of everyone there.

‘I know you all care about Cathy, as I do. We wish her all the best of health and happiness, as we do Tommy - a man’s man and his father’s son.’

Everyone clapped here and Casper knew he was on to a winner.

‘Desrae looks every bit the mother of the bride, and the father as well . . .’

Everyone laughed except Desrae so he hurried on, ‘All that is left for me to say is: may you have many happy years together and many lovely children. All named after us, of course.’

Everyone clapped some more and kissed the bride and congratulated the groom. Tommy wasn’t the type to be kissed by TVs and they all knew that. For most of the girls the closest they had come to male behaviour in years was shaking his hand.

The reception soon gathered momentum as hostesses, bouncers and assorted visitors turned up, laden down with presents and champagne by the bucketful. Cathy could not help but feel happy, seeing the celebrations all around her. Tommy was so delighted his eyes shone with joy and she knew she had done the right thing. He would be a good father, a good husband. As Desrae said, she could have done a lot worse.

After two glasses of champagne she decided to go outside and get some air. She walked into the darkness of the shop, amazed to find that it was evening already. She opened the shop door and was about to step out on to the pavement when a hand grabbed her. Before she could scream a voice said, ‘Don’t worry, it’s only me.’

Richard Gates’s voice was the last one she’d expected to hear. Turning towards him, she smiled happily.

‘Susan said you might be along. How are you?’ She hadn’t seen him for a long time, she realised. Too long.

‘Oh, I’m all right. So how does it feel to be an old married woman then? Any different?’

She smiled ruefully. ‘Not really, I still feel like Cathy Connor inside. I expect I always will. It’ll take a bit of getting used to: Pasquale. By the way, I understand I have you to thank for getting me a birth certificate and everything. I appreciate it.’