Dangerous Lady (43 page)

He stood up awkwardly. ‘I thought you weren’t going to come.’

Maura sat down and smiled at the waiter who held her chair.

‘Well, I didn’t get your card until after five o’clock so I had to rush a bit.’

‘You look exquisite, my dear, like a very beautiful painting. Now then, some champagne, I think.’ He smiled. ‘Real champagne, not the dishwater that’s served in your clubs!’

Maura laughed. Really laughed, for the first time in years. It felt good to be pursued. Wanted. And this man certainly wanted her … She relaxed back into her chair and let good feelings wash over her.

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Chapter Twenty-four 19 March 1985

‘Where did you get the number plates from?’ Michael was

keyed up.

Leslie grinned. ‘I got the numbers from a motorway service station car park. I had the actual plates made up by Jimmy Charlton. He owes us a favour.’ ‘

‘Good. Are the Range Rovers ready to go? And the bikes?’

Leslie nodded. ‘Yep. They’ve been serviced and valeted. They’re as clean as a nun’s knickers.’

Garry grinned. ‘I’ve sorted out all the guns. They’re cleaned and ready to go.’

‘Good. Very good. You realise this is a big undertaking, don’t you? This ain’t like a normal blag. Every filth in the country is going to be looking for that gold. It will be the biggest chance of promotion since Ronnie Biggs had it on his toes.’

‘Well, they ain’t caught him yet.’ Maura’s voice was jocular. Everyone laughed except Mickey.

‘There’s still time for that. Whatever happens, don’t get too cocky, lads. Just keep to the ground rules I laid down and we’ll be OK.’

Maura stood up and looked around at her brothers’ faces. ‘What about the hole?’

‘All done. Ready and waiting.’ This from Lee.

‘Then all that’s left is to sort out the alibis. I’ll leave that to you lot. Whatever it is, make sure it’s tighter than a duck’s behind. OK?’

Everyone nodded.

‘See you in the morning then.’ Michael smiled at the faces around him. ‘Unless there’s any questions?’

‘I’ve got a question.’

‘It would be you, wouldn’t it, brain box?’ Maura’s voice was light.

The chances were that if Garry asked a question it would be a good one.

He adjusted his glasses. ‘What happens to the filth?’

Michael and Maura had been half expecting someone to ask this.

Michael answered. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you till the morning. But as you ask …’

He paused for effect and swept his gaze around all his brothers.

‘You waste them. Every one of them. The fewer people to identify us, the better.’

Roy coughed. ‘What about the old Bill though, Mickey? They’re in on it, ain’t they?’

‘Yep. Right up to their shitty little necks. All the more reason to get rid of them. People get jumpy.’ He shrugged his shoulders as if to finish his sentence.

‘Righty ho. Now who fancies a few pints?’

The four younger brothers all got up from their seats.

‘No pissing it up tonight!’ Michael’s voice was stern. ‘And, Garry, contact lenses tomorrow.’ ‘Don’t worry, Mickey. Everything will be fine. As sweet as a nut.’

When the boys left, Maura turned to Michael. ‘I ain’t happy about knocking everyone off, Mickey.’

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Michael sighed heavily. In his dark handmade suit and pristine white shirt he looked like a banker. Which was exactly the impression he wanted to create. In the small Portakabin they both looked out of place.

‘Look, Maws, you can never leave anything to chance.’ He went to her and put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her so close she could feel his breath fan her face. ‘You just let me do all the worrying now. You’ve done your bit.’ ‘ ‘Once the killing starts, Mickey, we lose the protection of all our plants. You realise that, don’t you?’

‘Yeah, I realise that, Maws. But that Tory MP, the one soliciting in King’s Cross … well, he’s gonna be our scapegoat. The day after tomorrow the pictures we’ve got of him will be on their way to the gutter press. That should take most people’s minds off the actual robbery for a while. Until the main shock wears off anyway.’

Maura was quiet and he took it as a sign of acquiescence. ‘Come on, girl, let’s get off home. We’re all a bit jumpy.’

Driving home Maura was more than jumpy. She was positively terror-stricken. As she drove into her driveway she saw that all the lights were on and her heart lifted a little. Carla was here. She jumped out of the car with delight. That meant that little Joey was with her as well. She let herself into the house.

‘Auntie Maura! Auntie Maura!’ Four-year-old Joey ran towards her, his chubby arms outstretched. Maura picked him up in a big hug.

‘Hello, Tiger.’

She saw Carla watching them from the kitchen doorway. As always when she saw her she was overwhelmed with a feeling of love and affection. Carla looked like a young Janine, with her red-brown hair and slim figure, except

Carla had something more - she had a womanly aura that Janine had never had.

‘I’ve just made some dinner. You couldn’t have timed it better.’

‘What brought you here? I didn’t expect you until the weekend. Not that I mind. You could move in if you wanted to, you know that.’ Maura sounded almost her old self. She could kiss Carla for taking her mind off what was happening tomorrow.

Carla went quiet. Her face closed up in the way that Maura knew so well. Something wasn’t right.

‘What’s happened?’

Carla ran her hands through her long hair in her old familiar gesture. -M

‘Come and have dinner, Maws. I’ll tell you while we eat.’

Maura followed her into the kitchen. She was frowning now. Joey was holding her tightly around the neck. In the kitchen she could smell a chicken casserole, and realised that she was in fact quite hungry. She sat at the large kitchen table and watched Carla while she worked. This was Carla all over. She would not tell Maura anything until she was good and ready. She guessed that the trouble was with Malcolm, Carla’s husband. After Benny’s death and Carla’s rejection of Maura and Michael, they had not seen her for nearly a year. Then one day Maura had come home to find Carla sitting on her doorstep. She had had a big row with her Nana, as she called Maura’s mother. Maura had immediately installed her back in her own room and all had been forgiven between them.

Then, six years ago, Carla had married Malcolm Spencer. He had been two years older than Carla at twenty-six, and for Maura at least it had been loathing on first sight. He was an architect, he was middle-class, and he was the most

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pompous ass that Maura had ever come across. But Carla had loved him, so she had swallowed her own reservations and countenanced the match. When Joey had been born she had nearly liked the man who was married to the most important girl in her life. She could see how pleased he was with his son and it had made him seem humari somehow. Until the christening.

This had been a strained affair as her mother was there, naturally. Sarah had studiously ignored her eldest son and only daughter. That was bad enough, but then Malcolm had upset everyone there. Carla was holding the baby next to the font, everyone standing respectfully around. Carla had handed the infant to the priest and had lost her grip, only slightly. The priest had instantly taken a firm hold on the child and no harm was done. It was the kind of thing that in most families would have been considered an excuse for a joke. Brought up every now and then in family gatherings with a bit added on.

Instead, Malcolm had snatched the child from his wife, causing Carla to lose her own balance. Maura and all her brothers had stood tight-lipped until the service was finally over. There had been no enjoyment after that. Everyone had just stood patiently waiting for it to end. After the service, outside the church, there had been murder. Michael had told Malcolm in no uncertain terms that if he ever as much raised his voice to his niece, or dragged her over again, he would bury him underneath the new motorway currently being built. Maura was sure that the incident had finally shown Malcolm what he had inadvertently married into. Since then there had been a strained truce between all parties concerned. Now here was Carla and little Joey and she would bet her last pound there was something seriously up. ‘I

She played with Joey, who had recently learnt to sing ‘The Wheels on the Bus’, until such time as Carla finished preparing the meal. Finally, they were all seated and eating the chicken casserole. Carla had also made duchesse potatoes and broccoli and Maura was enjoying it until Carla started telling her what had happened. Carla and Joey were supposed to be going to the zoo with his playgroup. When Carla had driven him there, with a packed lunch and his mackintosh because the spring weather had been so uncertain, she had been told that one of the minibus drivers was ill so the trip had been cancelled. Joey was heartbroken and had refused to stay at the playgroup. So Carla had put him back in the car and instead of going to the zoo as planned, decided to take him home with her and catch up on some household chores. She guessed that Malcolm would not be too happy as he worked from home the days that Joey went to the playgroup, especially today as they were not due to come home until five o’clock.

When she had reached her house she had noticed a pink Fiesta in the drive. She had parked her own car outside on the road, thinking that someone from Malcolm’s work had come round to see him. Getting Joey out of the car, she had gone around the side of the house and in the back door, reasoning that if she opened the porch door, and then the front door, she would more than likely disturb Malcolm and his guest. Inside the kitchen, she pulled off Joey’s coat and Wellingtons and made him a drink of orange. He sat at the table drinking it, for once quiet and still.

Putting on the kettle Carla decided to ask Malcolm and his visitor if they wanted a cup of tea. She left the kitchen, crossed the large entrance hall and went to the door of the

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room that was Malcolm’s office when he was home. She tapped on it and walked inside. Her mind registered the fact that the heavy brocade curtains were drawn. She had not noticed this from the front of the house as this room backed on to the rear garden. Although the room was quite dark she could see well enough. She could see that Malcolm was sitting on his office chair, and that sitting on top of him, with her blouse open exposing her breasts and her skirt pulled up to her waist, showing anyone who cared to look that she was knickerless, was Miss BradleyHume, Malcolm’s secretary. They were unaware of her for a few seconds and Carla stood rooted to the spot watching the rise and fall of Miss BradleyHume’s buttocks. Then Malcolm had put his head forward to kiss the woman and had seen Carla standing there. In his fright he stood upright, dropping the prim and proper Miss BradleyHume on to the floor. Carla was mainly aware of the fact that Miss BradleyHume had large, rather baggy breasts.

Then she had the woman’s long mousy hair and was pulling her by it across the carpet. She could see the woman trying to free herself, clawing at Carla’s hands that had her hair in a vicelike grip. Malcolm was staring at Carla absolutely shell shocked.

Giving Miss BradleyHume a hard kick in her stomach, she turned her attention to her husband. Seeing him standing as he was with his underpants and jeans (his designer jeans that he thought made him look so macho) around his ankles, she was finally convinced that she had married a complete and utter fool. His little skinny legs with their sparse hairs looked like a chicken’s. She noticed that his member, which had never been that big to begin with, had now shrunk into a small wrinkled sausage and she had the urge to laugh. If only he could see himself! Mr Important!

Miss BradleyHume had picked herself up off the floor

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and retrieved her knickers, which were on the drawing board. She stood now, fully attired, in front of Carla.

‘This is not what it looks like.’ Her refined twang sent shivers of diabolical hatred through Carla’s body.

‘Get out of my house, you slut. You fucking filthy dirty slut!’

Miss BradleyHume’s long horsey face dropped with shock. Carla laughed, her eyes wild.

‘Oh, have I shocked you with a naughty word? Fuck … don’t you like that word? Well, that’s what you were doing, you upper-class whore. You were fucking my husband. Fucking, rucking, fucking …’

Malcolm shuffled across to her as quickly as his trousers would allow. She felt the stinging blow as he slapped her across the face. Then she was calm. She watched Malcolm pull up his ridiculous jeans.

‘Get out of my house now. Both of you.’

Miss BradleyHume went quickly. The change in Carla’s voice was enough to send her running to her car. On her way out of the door she knocked Joey to the floor. His shocked crying penetrated Carla’s rage. Going to him, she picked him up.

‘All right, baby. It’s nothing. Just a little accident, that’s all.’

She turned back to her husband. ‘I meant what I said, Malcolm. I want you out of my home”.’

He tried to bluff his way out, his domineering personality coming to the fore.

‘I will not leave this house. You’re overwrought. I admit I’ve been a naughty boy . .-.’

‘Naughty boy!’ Carla’s voice was incredulous. ‘You’re a fucking cretin, Malcolm, that’s what you are. And you’re getting out of this house, or I’ll get my uncles to move you for me!’ -

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It was the first time she had ever threatened him with anything, let alone her uncles. Malcolm was aware that his hold over Carla was not as tight as usual. He tried a different tack.

‘Will you stop using that F word! You really are showing your working-class lineage today, aren’t you?’ Carla was patting Joey’s back. His sobs were quieting now as he listened to his parents’ quarrel.

‘I am going to Maura’s, Malcolm, and when I get back from there in a few days I want you out.’ Her words had a finality about them that frightened him.

‘Oh, baby, I know what I’ve done is wrong. But she was asking for it.’ His voice was wheedling. Cajoling. He needed her.