Tough Love (17 page)

Leanne was at her desk. She was holding the paper that had been signed the other day, the streak of blood still visible. No one else would be able to tell it was blood – it looked like a little brown smear – but Leanne knew what it was.

Markie walked in and Leanne hid it under the rest of the filing. ‘Everything's gone off to the solicitor's,' she said. She wanted to test the water about what she had witnessed the other day. ‘I've not sent off the thing Mac signed. I didn't know where it had to go.'

‘Bloody hell, Lee! That's the important one. It needs to go to HJ Solicitors. Get a courier.'

‘Sorry.'

‘It takes them for ever to complete on house transfers as it is, without us sitting on paperwork.'

‘When did you decide to go into property?' she asked.

‘When I was staring at my ceiling in Strangeways
on the four hundred and twenty-first night. Why? What's this? The Spanish Inquisition?'

‘No, I'm just asking. You don't have to bite my head off.'

‘Look, Mac said you might have overheard something the other day.' Markie paused, as if he was getting ready to make a confession. ‘There are people we deal with, who borrow money from us when they can't get it from other places, and then they get into trouble. That guy the other day, he's run up a massive debt and was caught doing a runner to Spain. We've asked him nicely and it's not like he hasn't got money tied up – he's got the house. We tried to arrange for him to release some equity in it but the bank weren't having it, so we had to get him to sign the house over, all above board. We're even giving him a good whack out of it so he can set up again. But he got mouthy with Mac just as you walked in to get the paper signed. Sorry you had to hear that, Lee.'

Leanne wanted to believe him, and what he had said sounded plausible. ‘Look, I'm not daft, Markie, and I know you aren't snow white, but I got a bit of a shock, that's all.'

Markie wrapped his arms round her. ‘Next time you're worried, come and tell me, yeah?' He kissed the top of her head.

They were interrupted by the door buzzer. Leanne activated the lock and a bike courier came in. ‘Delivery for Mr M. Crompton,' he said.

‘That's me.' Markie took a box from him.

‘Bit whiffy that, mate,' the courier said.

Markie sniffed it and recoiled, as Leanne signed for it. ‘Don't suppose you can do a job for us while you're here? I just need this envelope dropping at Rawson Street. I'd walk down myself but can't leave the phone,' she said.

‘Give it here. What number?'

Leanne smiled gratefully and popped the blood-smeared document into an envelope. ‘Four. HJ Solicitors.'

Markie was trying to open his package.

‘You were the first poster I had on my wall when I went to college,' the courier told Leanne bashfully. ‘I can't believe you're not still modelling. You're well fit,' he said, forgetting himself.

‘Oi, that's my sister!' Markie said, as he opened the box. ‘Fuck!' He threw it onto the desk and reeled backwards. Then the smell hit Leanne, who put a hand over her mouth. ‘It's a fucking rat!' Markie shouted at the courier. ‘Who sent it?'

The courier looked at his delivery sheet – he was gagging too. ‘It just says Mandy.'

‘That bitch!' Markie said. He put the lid onto the box and thrust it back at the courier. ‘Well, you can take it to forty-nine Letchworth Street.'

‘Come on, mate! It's a dead rat! I can't take that.'

‘You brought it here. You can fucking take it back.'

‘Markie …' Leanne said.

‘Right! I'll take it my-fucking-self.'

‘What will you do with it?' Leanne asked, as her brother marched to the door.

‘Feed it to the cunt,' he said, without looking back.

*

Leanne had sprayed air-freshener round the room and opened the windows, but there was still a distinct smell of dead rat in the air. Mandy wasn't one for going quietly. Leanne knew that Mandy wanted Markie to go round to see her, even if it was to feed her her own gift. For Mandy any contact with Markie was better than none at all.

Leanne's desk was clear. She had done all of the morning's jobs and the phone wasn't ringing, so she took the photos of Jodie out of her bag, then scrolled through her mobile phone until she came to Victoria Haim's number.

Victoria had been a gossip columnist for one of the red tops when Leanne first knew her. Contrary to popular belief, the gossip columnists weren't parasites whom celebrities avoided at parties. They were almost celebrities in their own right. They had so much power that they were treated exceptionally well by the people they often lambasted.

Leanne had always got on well with Victoria, not
because she had had anything to gain from it, but because they had hit it off. Victoria's rise had been meteoric and she was now editor of the
Globe
, a leading tabloid.

‘Victoria, it's Leanne – Leanne Crompton.'

‘Leanne! How are you? Did you get my text? I've been meaning to call but I've been up to my eyes …'

Leanne had received a text from her the day after Jenny had sacked her, saying how sorry she was and offering help. Leanne hadn't taken her up on it because she knew Victoria was just being polite and that a couple of high-days-and-holidays snaps of her on page three wouldn't extend her career any further.

‘I did, yeah, thanks. I've been keeping my head down.'

‘What can I do for you?' Victoria asked warmly.

‘Well …' Leanne began. She told Victoria about her sister, how Jodie was six years younger than her, had great energy and a look that would, in Leanne's opinion, shift papers.

‘Who's managing her?' Victoria asked.

‘I am,' Leanne said. ‘I've moved back up north because so many good-looking girls are being taken advantage of by old pervs when they could have a good career if they had the right person to look after them.' She hadn't thought about this until she'd said it, but it made sense.

‘Good for you,' Victoria said. ‘Send her pictures to me now and I'll put you in touch with the person in charge of page three.'

‘Great,' Leanne said. They chatted for a few more minutes, and Victoria assured her she wasn't missing much in London. Then Leanne put the phone down, beaming from ear to ear. She called Jodie. ‘I've got some good news for you.'

‘What?' Jodie asked blankly.

‘I've spoken to the editor of the
Globe
and she's asked to see your pictures. I'm sending them to her now.' Leanne winced. Jodie's excited scream had threatened to burst her eardrum.

Leanne stepped out of the taxi and looked at the tiny bistro, Barolo's, tucked away along a backstreet not far from Little Venice. Tony had chosen it, and she had asked him if he was happy to go somewhere so close to where Markie was living. Until recently Tony had known Markie's every move and assured her that there was no chance her brother would come into a place like this. His week nights were spent in Poles Apart or at the new Glass House premises, Leanne knew, but she had wanted reassurance. Jodie was looking after Kia. She was so excited about her pictures being sent to the
Globe
that she had promised to baby-sit free for the rest of her life.

Leanne opened the door to the dimly lit bistro and saw Tony sitting in the corner. He stood up as she entered and walked over to kiss her cheek. Leanne blushed girlishly.

‘You look beautiful,' he said.

She was wearing a short black dress she had been given by a young fashion designer for whom she had modelled about a year ago. ‘Thank you,' she said. ‘You're not so bad yourself.'

Tony laughed. ‘Yeah, less like Quasimodo than last time you saw me, eh?'

The bruising had faded now, and the swelling around his eye had all but disappeared. Leanne smiled. ‘But you looked like Quasimodo anyway,' she joked.

‘All right, Esmeralda. What you having to drink?'

‘G and T, please.' Leanne looked round the restaurant, then back at Tony. ‘It's really nice to see you again,' she said.

Tony fiddled with the butter knife and, unable to meet her eye, said, ‘You've no idea how much I've missed you. I've been such a dick, Lee. I should have come with you. What was I staying here for? So I could kiss Markie's arse? He's got enough hangers-on around him without me.'

‘You're not a hanger-on,' Leanne said. He had always stood on his own two feet where Markie was concerned, unless Leanne was involved and then he had tried to play it safe.

‘Well, I might not be a hanger-on but I'm a mug,' he said angrily, then caught himself. ‘Sorry, Leanne, I wanted tonight to be really nice. Let's not talk about me and Markie.'

‘Fine by me.' She picked up the menu. Then she remembered what she had wanted to ask Tony. ‘Sorry, I promise this is the last time I'll mention my brother, but he's being a bit cagey about something and I was wondering if you could shed any light on it.'

‘Go on.'

Leanne told him what she had heard and seen at Poles Apart, that Markie had explained it away, but it didn't sit right with her, people losing their homes for the sake of a gambling debt.

‘Well, what Markie's told you isn't a million miles from the truth. The only thing is, he knows when he lends these mugs money that they're not going to be able to pay him back. And he only ever lends it to someone who's bought their own house. Usually they got it off the council for thirty grand and it's worth more than a hundred now. He gets them to sign over the house in case they can't pay back what they owe him, then lets them run up a bill for more than they paid for it. Simple. He takes the house but makes out he's doing them a favour because he's letting them off the difference between the debt and what they paid for the house. But in reality he's pocketing all the equity. He only deals with people too stupid, lazy or blinded by a gambling addiction to see what's going on. It's dodgy, but if him and Mac weren't doing it someone else would.'

Leanne knew her brother was into all sorts of illegal activities, but she had somehow convinced herself that since he'd come out of prison he'd been on the straight and narrow. She'd been reassured of this when he'd given her the job in his office. But now she knew she was being paid with money gained from other people's pain. ‘I don't like it.'

‘Shit happens, Lee, bigger shit than this. You've just got to accept it.'

Leanne didn't think she had to accept anything, but now – on her first date in years with Tony – wasn't the time to point it out. ‘Yeah. Maybe.'

The waitress was hovering.

‘I'm ready. Are you, Leanne?'

Leanne ordered soup and a medium rare steak.

‘Medium rare?' Tony said, after he'd handed the menus to the waitress. ‘I'm impressed. Time was, you'd have had it cremated.'

‘True. I'm dead refined now, me.'

The waitress came back with the wine Tony had ordered. ‘Just stick it in the glasses, I'm sure it'll be fine,' he said. Once it was poured he lifted his and said, ‘To having you back in Bradington.'

Leanne raised hers. ‘Cheers.'

Just then a bell chimed and the door burst open.

Tony's face paled. Thinking it must be Markie, Leanne turned. To her greater dismay, she saw her mum and dad.

‘Eh, it's all right in here, innit?' she heard Tracy say.

‘Told you I'd take you somewhere posh.'

‘I'm not having no frog's legs.' Tracy was taking off her coat.

The place was too small for Leanne and Tony to pretend they hadn't seen them, and only three other couples were in the room. Leanne put her head into her hands.

‘Eye-eye, Tony boy!' she heard her dad say. ‘And who's the lovely lady? If it isn't our Leanne!'

Leanne arranged her face into a smile, then turned round to greet them. ‘What are you two doing here?' she asked.

‘Might ask you the same. That poor kiddie of yours is going to think our Jodie's her mum.' Tracy cackled to indicate that she was joking, but Leanne knew a not-so-veiled dig when she heard one.

‘She's looked after her three times since I've been back.' She bit her lip. Tracy could talk, her mum had buggered off to Rhyl for a week, leaving her kids home alone with Markie. He had been thirteen and Jodie five months.

‘So, how d'you hear about this place, Paul?' Tony said, making idle chit-chat. Leanne knew what he really wanted to ask was, ‘How the hell did you hear about this place, Paul, and why, tonight, of all nights, are you here?'

‘Write-up in the paper said it was pricey, so I
thought, that's where I'm taking Tracy for some slap-up nosh.'

‘Yeah, finally got his finger out of his arse and decided to bring me somewhere that's not a Berni Inn,' Tracy added.

‘Could I take you to your table?' the waitress asked. Evidently she was anxious to seat them down. Then they might lower their voices.

‘We'll sit here,' Tracy said. Leanne felt the colour drain from her face. ‘Only joking!' Tracy chortled. ‘Look at the chops on you! Look like you've seen a fucking ghost. We'll go over there, leave you two lovebirds to it.'

Leanne smiled tightly, and Paul rubbed his daughter's hair. ‘Look at you, all grown up,' he said, then winked at Tony before he allowed himself to be ushered to his table.

‘What does that mean?' Leanne whispered, through gritted teeth. ‘He's seen me I don't know how many times since I've been back and he says, “All grown up.” He's weird.'

Tony started to laugh.

‘What?' she demanded.

‘When did those two get back together? I thought they hated each other.'

‘After the wedding.'

‘Bloody hell. Chances of 'em coming in here tonight!'