Dangerous Lady (42 page)

‘And what do you want?’ His voice was belligerent. His face was close to hers and she could smell the sourness of the vast amount of Scotch he had been consuming since his fight with Michael.

‘May I come in?’ Her voice was neutral.

He held the door open and watched her pass. For the first time in her life she was a bit frightened of him. He slammed the door shut behind her and walked into his lounge. Maura followed, unsure if she was doing the right thing. The room was in a state of chaos. The curtains were still pulled even though it was nearly lunchtime. She went to his oak bookcase and studied the titles for something to do. Her mind was trying to think of a way to defuse the situation.

Geoffrey pulled open the heavy curtains and the weak February sunshine lit the room. She carried on looking at the books, waiting for him to open the conversation. Give her some kind of inkling of how to go about pacifying him over what had happened.

‘Thinking of taking up reading? How about Crime and Punishment? You can borrow it if you like.’ His voice was sarcastic.

She faced him.

‘Why didn’t you turn in for work yesterday?’ She tried to sound ignorant of what had taken place between the two brothers, but as soon as she spoke knew she had said the wrong thing.

Geoffrey laughed.

‘Are you telling me that Big Brother didn’t tell you all about our little fight? Mickey even tells you when he gives his boyfriend one up the jacksey. I’m sure a good row with his brother would have been worth mentioning.’

Maura stared at Geoffrey for a few seconds before answering him. She decided to come clean with him. It was obvious that he was not going to make this easy.

‘Look, Geoff, he did tell me about it. And he really is

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cut up about it. You took it too much to heart. Geoffrey sat in a chair and began to laugh at her. ‘Oh, get stuffed, Maura. Cut up? He’d be more cut up if that mangy old dog of Benny’s died. He don’t give a toss about me, and from now on I ain’t gonna give a toss about him.’

‘But where will you work? What will you do?’ She went to him and knelt in front of his chair.

‘Oh, don’t you worry, I’ll still be working for you all.’ He stressed the you. ‘But I tell you now, and you can tell Mickey this if you like, I’ll not be at his beck and call twenty-four hours a day. When I’ve done my stint of work I’m off. And I won’t do any “heavy” work. If you or him want anyone roughed up or threatened, then you’ll have to get one of the others to do it.’ ‘That’s fair enough, Geoff. I was thinking, how about you take over the docklands? I think you and Willy would work well together, and me and Mickey … well, we have other irons in the fire.’ Geoffrey grinned, a horrible smelly grin that made her feel sick.

‘So little sister has come to pour oil on troubled waters? You’re offering me the docklands because you think that it will make me toe the line. Be a good boy.’ .- ‘No, Geoffrey. You could have had it before.’ He cut her off, his voice low and serious. ‘Do you realise that I am over fifty years old? I have never married or even lived with a woman. I just worked that business with Michael. And then you came and you took it all from me. You inveigled your way into his pocket and you’ve been resident there ever since.’ He was looking at her with a hatred that was tangible. Maura sat back on her heels and stared into a wrinkled, hate-filled face. In the grey sunlight he looked like a gargoyle come to life.

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But he had hurt her. Hurt and annoyed her.

‘Do you know your trouble, Geoffrey? You don’t know how to live a life. You act like a leech sucking everyone else’s glory. You lived in Mickey’s shadow, mate. You didn’t have to, it was your own choice. You could have married if you’d wanted to, but you didn’t. Not because of Michael, but because you knew deep in your boots that you weren’t fit to mate with anyone. Mother called me and Michael neuters years ago, and maybe she was right, but I think that you’re one as well.’

‘You bitch! How dare you come here spouting your crap?’

Maura stood up and smoothed out the creases in her skirt. Slowly and deliberately, she leaned towards him. ‘Just because you’ve read a few books don’t make you Magnus fucking Magnusson you know. You’re full of old shit, mate. You want to put down Herman Hesse and Tolstoy and go out of this flat and get yourself a bird. A real bird, not one of the high-heeled call girls you normally knock around with. A real woman, with a mind of her own.

‘You make me sick, Geoff. You’re always moaning about something. Everything in your life is analysed and picked over until you find a slight to you somewhere in it. Whether it’s a chance remark or a frigging so-called conspiracy, like the folder you read the other day. You’re paranoid, that’s your trouble. Now if’you want to come back to work tomorrow, go to the offices at St Martin’s Wharf. If not, then that’s up to you.’

She started to walk from the room. His voice stayed her. ‘I hate you, Maura. I hate you so much I can taste it in my mouth. It’s like gall. Mother said to me once you weren’t like a normal woman. You didn’t have the normal feelings any woman has. And now I know it’s true. You even killed your own baby.’

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She turned on him like a tiger. Her voice bitter, she said, ‘That’s Mother’s opinion, is it? Well, next time you two are chatting about me ask her this. Ask her who held me down on the table that day when a dirty old man scraped my baby away. Ask her that. And while you’re about it, ask her why she accepts money from Michael every week, yet won’t even acknowledge his existence. Ask her why she drove poor Carla into marrying that bloody Malcolm. Why she kept her and never tried to reunite her with her mother. I know what everyone thinks about Janine but I’ll tell you this much … once Mother got Carla into her house and had another little girl to dress up and take to mass, she would never let her go back home. You an’ Mother are like two peas in a pod. You’re both manipulators but neither of you could ever manipulate me or Michael. That’s what gets up your noses!’

Before he could speak again she had left the flat, slamming the door behind her.

Geoffrey sat in the chair for a while, thinking. All his instincts told him to forget Maura and Michael forever. But his devious brain told him that if he did not work for them he could not gather his information. And he would gather it. And he would use it. He would swallow his pride and go into work in the morning. But he would be biding his time … Maura drove to Jackie Traverna’s house. She was fuming inside. Geoffrey was a pain in the neck. He always had been, and she had a feeling he always would be. She parked her Mercedes Sports outside Jackie’s block of flats. Locking it carefully, she went up the small flight of stairs. As she walked along the landing towards Jackie’s flat she was aware of the attention she commanded. Women were standing on the landing chatting, children of all colours

and creeds were playing both on the landing and on the concrete forecourt of the flats. Everywhere was the flaking paint and crumbling brickwork that denoted the conditions of poverty these people lived in. The women who were chatting looked at her burgundy Jasper Conran dress and quite obviously real far coat, and were quiet and hostile. Maura had to turn her body sideways to pass them.

In their crumpled velour tracksuits and shapeless dresses they looked like old women, yet Maura could see from the tight skin on their faces that they were much younger than her. If her life had been different she could quite easily have been one of them. Then her mind rebelled against that thought.

No. She would never have allowed herself to look like these women. Most of them had given up hope at a very early age. No matter what had happened to her, she knew she would always have kept her self-respect.

Jackie’s front door was ajar and she walked inside, hesitantly. If those women who had looked at her with naked envy knew that she carried a gun in her bag, they might have had different feelings.

‘Jackie? Jackie love?’ Her voice was soft. She heard a noise from the bedroom and went inside. Jackie was lying on the bed. Her face had lost some of its puffiness and she looked better. Not much better but better than she had on Maura’s last visit.

‘Oh, Maura …’ Jackie tried to speak. Maura sat on her bed. ‘I just popped by to see you, Jackie. Shall I make you a cup of tea?’

Jackie’s deep brown eyes opened in surprise. Maura Ryan making her tea? It was like expecting the Queen to wash your kitchen floor.

Maura smiled at her, guessing her thoughts. She found

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the kitchen and made a pot of tea. The room was tiny but relatively tidy. She noticed that there was hardly anything in the cupboards. Leaving the tea to draw she walked back out on to the landing. The women were still there and Maura guessed that they had been discussing her arrival. She strode purposefully towards them.

‘Do any of you happen to be friends with Jackie Traverna?’

A fat woman with long straggly brown hair answered her. ‘I am. Why?’ Her voice was hard and flat.

‘I suppose you know that she’s had an accident.’

The fat woman sighed loudly. ‘I’ve been taking her Debbie to school for her. Why?’

‘If I gave you the money, would you get her in some shopping?’ Maura saw the women exchange looks. ‘I’ll pay you to do it, of course.’

The fat woman shrugged. ‘All right.’

She followed Maura back into the flat. Maura was gratified at the friendly way in which she went into Jackie’s room. Maura picked her bag up from where she had placed it on the bed. Opening it, she took out five twenty-pound notes. ‘Do you have a freezer, Jackie?’ The woman nodded her head.

‘Good. There’s a hundred pounds there and I want you to fill her freezer and cupboards up. I’ll give you a score for your trouble. OK?’

The fat woman stared at the money in astonishment. Then she took it from Maura. She guessed from Maura’s voice that she was not Social Services or Probation. When the woman went she would find out about her from Jackie. When the neighbour was gone, Maura poured Jackie and herself out some tea. Taking it into the bedroom, she placed Jackie’s cup into her hands. She had managed to

pull herself up in the bed and Maura could see the purple bruises on her arms and shoulders. Damn Danny Rubens!

Opening her bag again, she lit two cigarettes and gave one to Jackie. Maura studied her face. She had about thirty stitches in each cheek and would carry the scars for the rest of her life. She pulled out a building society book and gave it to the woman.

‘Inside there is five thousand pounds, Jackie. I want you to use it for a holiday or whatever. When you’re feeling better I want you to take over the job of head girl at the Crackerjack, our new club.’

It took Maura a minute to realise that Jackie was crying. She took the tea from her and placed it on the floor by the bed. Then she put an arm around her shoulders.

‘Hey … hey. Calm down, Jackie.’

She spoke with difficulty. ‘You’ve been so good. I was so worried. I thought I’d end up at King’s Cross with the pervies.’

Maura looked into her eyes. ‘No way. You’re a good girl, Jackie. And the head girl’s job is a bloody good earner. You’ll be fine. Absolutely fine.’

She picked Jackie’s tea up from the floor and passed it to her. ‘Now you drink this while I get you and me an ashtray!’

When the fat woman got back from shopping she was amazed to find the ‘rich bird’, as she had termed Maura in her head, washing the kitchen floor. When Maura left a little later she was sure she had pushed up Jackie Traverna’s street credibility a hundredfold, and only wished Jackie had not had to go through all that pain and suffering to achieve it.

When Maura got to her own house a bunch of white roses had been left in the glass porch. Intrigued, she opened the card. It said: ‘Happy Valentine’s Day. Mickey.’

She smiled to herself, but deep inside a little voice was asking her why she never got flowers from any ‘real’ men. Men who were not related to her. Inside the front door was a pile of letters. Picking them up, she went through to her kitchen. She placed the roses on the draining board and flicked through the letters. Bills and circulars. Then she noticed a thick cream-coloured envelope. Opening it, she brought out a beautiful card. It had real velvet flowers on it, arranged in a basket made of gold thread. This was definitely not a Woolworth’s special. She smiled. Michael again. She opened the card and nearly died of shock.

‘Will you be my Valentine? Have dinner with me tonight. 7.30 at the Savoy. Willy.’

For a few sweet seconds she felt that powerful excitement that a new love affair can bring. Then she glanced at her watch. It was past five now! She ran up the stairs to get ready. She was gonna knock his eyes out! William Templeton sat at his table. He sneaked a glance at his watch. It was twenty to eight. She wasn’t coming. He felt his heart sink. Maybe he should have rung her. Then she could have cold-shouldered him over the phone and that would have been the end of it. But he had seen that card in Harrods and had felt a foolish urge to buy it for her. He almost laughed. At his age? On the wrong side of fifty …

He had that terrible feeling people get when they have been stood up. That feeling that makes them think that everyone knows what’s happened to them. That everyone is smiling at them behind their hands. He felt a shadow fall across him as he stared at the menu for the hundredth time and waved his hand imperiously.

‘I’m not ready to order yet, thank you.’

‘I should hope not. The least I’d expect is that you would wait for me to arrive!’

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His eyes lifted and she was standing there, looking lovelier than he had ever seen her before. She had on a grey fitted dress of watered silk. As with all her clothes, it was perfectly plain. But with her breasts and slim waist, she did not need any of the frippery that most women wore. In her ears she had perfect pearl earrings and around her neck a small single strand of the same grade. Her pale white skin brought them to shining life. Her silky white blonde hair looked immaculate, as always. William took pleasure in the admiring glances that were coming their way.