Wishing and Hoping (30 page)

The club had to be a success. She owed it to
Michael. But she was charming her way around gangsters, bankers and other rich and powerful men for a very good reason.

People were aware of the affairs of Paddy Rafferty. Rumour had it that although he was a past master at the exploitation of Irish labour on the building sites, he fancied his chances of taking a cut of the development action. He wanted to be bigger than he was.

The political animals who frequented the Blue Genie were the obvious starting point. What was Rafferty up to? How did he operate? Who did he employ to do his dirty work?

She wasn't rightly sure of finding out anything useful, but she had to try. Her husband and her family were depending on her and, even though it meant leaving the children with Allegra, she had to try. Allegra would look after them. She was one hundred per cent sure of that.

She was at the bar sipping at a cocktail. A local politician by the name of Randolph Cramer was playing her court. She allowed him to do so, safe in the knowledge that the bouncers were close at hand and the politician's mistress was sitting at a table, a fixed smile on her face and a furious look in her eyes.

There were reasons for Marcie allowing Randolph to think he was in with a chance. He was rumoured to be a close colleague of Paddy Rafferty and Marcie was sure that Paddy Rafferty had had something to
do with Michael being arrested. It was also rumoured that Randolph had once been in a close relationship with Linda Bell.

His eyes roved over her body. Far from being handsome, Randolph had pale eyes, pale hair and a shiny pate. But of course he had wealth and power in spades, sure-fire compensation for his less than playboy looks.

Her instinctive reaction was to move away from him, but she forced herself to stay put and even to smile at him as though his attentions were appreciated.

She saw him glance over his shoulder. His girlfriend was no longer sitting at the table. It was a safe bet to assume that she'd gone off to powder her nose. She guessed what he'd say next.

His fingers stroked her arm. Mr Local Politician turned into Mr Seductive.

‘How about you and me getting together sometime?'

Well, she could play the seductive game too, though there was more purpose to her being seductive.

Her smile was wide and her eyes flashed with hidden promise. ‘You know I'm married?'

He nodded. ‘Of course I do.'

She detected his attempt to adopt an upper-class accent, but his roots somewhere down Rotherhithe way shone through.

‘What about Agnes?'

He shrugged and tipped his brandy glass, swallowing
the measure in one. ‘She means nothing to me.' He signalled to the barman for another.

‘And your wife?'

She'd done her homework well. Even though Randolph had never brought his wife to the club, she knew he had one. It had purely been a case of phoning his office and pretending to be his wife.

The telephonist had not hesitated. ‘Christine? Darling. What do you want?'

She'd put the phone down without saying a word. Thank goodness there was no way for him to check who had called – except for asking his wife that is.

‘My wife understands me,' he replied, his colder tone a direct result of his surprise that she knew he had a wife.

He slid his left hand into his pocket – as though not flashing his wedding ring would alter his station or improve his chances. The arrogance of the man!

‘She would have to. I've seen you with other women besides Agnes.'

He drank more brandy. ‘I like women. They never last, of course. One-night stands for the most part.'

Marcie smiled. Shaking her head, she wagged a finger at him. ‘I think you're fibbing, Randolph. A little bird tells me that you have had more long-term relationships. Linda Bell for one.'

She caught him in the middle of another slug of brandy and thought he was going to choke.

‘I had nothing to do with it, Marcie. I don't know anything about it.'

She caught the sudden change of mood, the nervous tic beneath his right eye, the sudden flaccidity of his jowls. She guessed he'd been holding his stomach muscles in. Like the rest of him they relaxed too and sent a button popping from his waistband.

Marcie fingered the rim of her glass. ‘She was a good-time girl. Right?'

‘You could say that. I wasn't the only one taking her out. Rafferty did for a start. In fact he even set her up in a flat for a while.'

Marcie nodded. What he was telling her was only what she'd expected. Rafferty had a lot to do with it, but without any evidence . . . She needed to know who had planted the gun.

It was a terrible rush, but the following day Marcie set off to see her grandmother. She would be coming out of hospital shortly and Babs had suggested she move in with her, which came as something of a surprise. The two women had tolerated each other for years and were better off apart.

Allegra had offered to go with Marcie and help with the children and her assistance was much appreciated. Joanna wanted to run around all over the place and Aran didn't care much for travelling. He was a baby who liked routine. He also loved Allegra and
seemed resentful that his mother was in charge and carrying him in her arms.

Marcie drove them down in her beloved Mini, the children asleep in the back and Allegra sitting serenely at the front. The weather was turning cold. They passed one particular house that had put up their Christmas decorations weeks ahead of everyone else. Still, thought Marcie, everyone has to have something to look forward to. In her case it was a fragile hope that Michael would be released in time for Christmas, but it didn't look likely.

First stop was to drop the children and Allegra off at Endeavour Terrace. Garth was in the kitchen, pouring tea into three cups and a milkier version into a plastic tumbler for Joanna.

Marcie held her breath. Garth had even provided a saucepan of hot water in order to warm Aran's bottle.

‘Did you hear us pull up?' she asked him.

‘No. I just knew what time you'd get here,' he replied.

Of course he did. She should have known.

After sorting a few things out like the sleeping arrangements and whether there were clean sheets on the beds, Marcie left for the hospital.

At least the interior of the hospital didn't smell as bad as the prison had on the day before when she'd visited Michael. To her great relief he had looked a
lot better than on her last visit and confided in her that he wasn't ‘falling down stairs or walking into doors' any longer.

‘You must have a guardian angel,' she'd said to him.

He'd smiled. ‘I must do.'

‘She's still asleep,' said the doctor.

Her grandmother's bed was at the very end of the ward. The curtains were pulled halfway and there was a metal cage beneath the bedding, keeping it away from her injury.

Marcie felt her eyes filling with tears. Rosa Brooks looked so tiny and frail in the hospital bed. The frame beneath the bedcovers looked like some kind of monster, eating her from the bottom up. She supposed in a way her grandmother was being eaten.

Swiping a tear from the corner of her eye, she asked the doctor when she was likely to be up on her feet again and had the toe been removed successfully.

‘I'm afraid there were complications. We had to remove half her leg.'

To Marcie it was like being hit by a blast of cold air. She couldn't breathe. Surely she'd misheard.

‘Are you all right?'

The doctor's voice pulled her back from the shock she was feeling. She nodded weakly.

‘Will she live?'

‘We're not sure. Her age goes against her, of course,
but she is strong-minded. We find having a strong will aids recovery no end.'

‘How will she . . .?'

Marcie almost choked the words out. She wanted to say how will she get around, but somehow she already knew what he would say.

‘We're pretty sure she'll need a wheelchair. Does your grandmother live in a bungalow?'

She shook her head. ‘An old cottage.'

Visualising the rooms she'd known for most of her life, Marcie was painfully aware that a wheelchair and number ten Endeavour Terrace did not mix. The cottage had steps at the front door and stairs up to the first floor. Besides that, the hallway was narrow and the bathroom was out the back. Her mind was already darting around, trying to organise what had to be done. Her grandmother would have to move in with her and the children. There was no other alternative.

On her return to Endeavour Terrace, she discussed her plans with Allegra, who made her sit down, drink tea and eat a ham sandwich.

‘You are getting so thin,' Allegra pointed out.

Marcie ran her hands through her hair. She was half inclined not to leave the Isle of Sheppey. Life had been so much simpler here, though poorer, of course: no nice clothes, house or nippy little car. She couldn't help snapping.

‘And you're becoming so bloody sanctimonious!'

Allegra's classic countenance froze for barely a second, but enough to make Marcie feel guilty.

‘I'm sorry,' said Marcie.

‘No need to be,' said Allegra in that calm, collected way of hers. ‘I suppose I must seem a bit that way of late. I know very well that I'm not at all the person I once was when I was with Victor. I've come to the conclusion that my life had lost its way when I was with him.'

Marcie didn't know why, but she felt slightly embarrassed. It was as though she'd probed too deeply into Allegra's personal life – though really what had she said? Only that she thought she had become sanctimonious and even then it was purely an outburst because she was worried about her grandmother.

Allegra's big brown eyes shone as she looked directly into Marcie's face. ‘I don't believe that I will be around for you much longer, Marcie.'

Marcie was instantly filled with alarm, suddenly realising just how much she depended on Allegra. ‘Where are you going? Back with your parents? Abroad maybe?'

Allegra shook her head. ‘Not back with my parents, though I may very well end up being sent abroad.'

Sent? What was she talking about? Marcie stared, waiting to hear more.

‘I've decided to join a religious order.'

Marcie still said nothing. The ball was very much in Allegra's court.

‘I've decided to become a nun.'

Marcie sat there, not sure whether to congratulate or commiserate. She didn't say anything until she got her thoughts into order.

‘Are you absolutely sure about this?'

Even after she'd said it, Marcie knew what the answer would be. Wrapped up in her own world with her own problems, she'd noticed the change in Allegra but hadn't enquired why it was so. She immediately felt quite selfish and also very, very surprised.

Lowering her eyes, Allegra nodded slowly. ‘I've thought about it long and carefully. I don't pretend that the church is perfect – or rather the people serving it are not perfect; they're only human after all.' Her eyes flashed as she raised her eyelids. ‘I've wrestled with my conscience and my sins and have decided that it's the perfect life for me. I was born into a wealthy family and Victor was wealthy too. Perhaps I had an overdose of wealth and luxurious living and now I yearn for something simpler.'

‘But Victor was not the father of your child. You said it was a priest.'

Allegra nodded. ‘I know you're finding it hard to understand, but the church is not to blame for the sins of one man. I know it's where I want to be.'

Marcie sat stunned though strangely enough she understood. ‘I'll miss you. So will Joanna.'

Allegra smiled. The little girl, unwilling to be ignored, had climbed onto her mother's lap and was eating one of her sandwiches.

‘I'll miss all of you – even Sally. By the way, how is she?'

The conversation had turned a corner. Marcie guessed Allegra was unwilling to discuss her decision further. When and where she decided to carry out her plan would be kept under wraps until she was ready. Marcie's mind turned to Sally.

Sally's child had been the result of a relationship with a married man. She'd had no choice but to give him up and was sure he was happy. To some extent Sally had got over the experience. Allegra, she decided, never had.

‘I haven't seen her for a couple of days. She was performing over the weekend, but I haven't seen her since.'

‘That's unusual, isn't it?'

‘It is. It may be that she's got a new man in her life and is keeping him under wraps.'

A sudden thought struck her. What if Sally had a new lover, one she might commit herself to long term? Could it be possible that she was about to lose both of her best friends, one to the church to be
celibate and one to the altar to become a wife? Sally had often said she'd like to be married.

Suddenly Marcie felt very alone and very worried about all those she loved.

Back in London, Leo Kendal had breathed his last. Sam dressed in black for the funeral. People from all walks of life came to pay their last respects. It was only to be expected. Leo and his business had touched many lives. Some were in his pay, some merely worked for him and some were close.

Sam was the closest.

The wake was held at the Café Royale.

‘Leo would have loved this,' Sam said wistfully. She raised a glass of champagne to his memory. ‘To Leo. May you rest in peace.'

After the toast, she found Carla and took her to one side. ‘Tell my daughter I want to see her.'

Carla nodded. ‘Whatever you say, boss.'

ROSA BROOKS WAS
only vaguely aware that her granddaughter had visited. It was as though she were floating above everything, as though she were seeing her life through a book and the characters in it.

Old memories had become as fresh as if they had happened yesterday, but in a strange way not just from her point of view, but from those who participated in her life. She was dreaming, but not in the same way that she had ever dreamed before.