Faces (25 page)

She turned away from him, and looked at herself in the mirror. She could see him staring at her, could see the desperation in his eyes and felt a moment’s sympathy for his predicament. It was all about other people with Kenny, what they might be thinking, what they might be doing, what they could give to him, or what he could take from them. She was no more than another possession as far as he was concerned. No more and no less. He had invested time and money in her and, because of that, he felt he could do what he liked with her, to her. She was going to unload him though, no matter what he did to her. It was now or never, and they both knew that. If she capitulated now, she was finished. He was attracted to her because she was so independent, once that changed she might as well dig herself a grave next to her mother because this man would take great pleasure in burying her.

She tidied her hair, flicking it back over her slim shoulders. She could see the want in him, and she said cattily, ‘Do what you like, Kenny, but this finishes tonight.’

As he launched himself at her, she instinctively covered her head with her arms, knowing he would go for her face. Knowing he would be out to destroy her looks as well as her spirit.

He was punching her now, and she felt the savageness of his blows on her frail shoulders. But she wouldn’t beg him to stop; if she did, he would be the victor in this war, and she’d never get shot of him. She would take whatever he dished out, at least then he would probably leave her in relative peace. But she had to let him vent his spleen, let him hurt her; it was the only way she would ever get truly shot of him.

As he yanked her towards him, she could feel him pushing her legs apart and, when he ripped away the scrap of silk that passed for underwear and forced his fat fingers inside her, she finally screamed. She was scratching at his face and eyes with her long, red nails, and she fought him with every ounce of strength she could muster.

She could feel the blood dripping from her mouth; it was warm, salty, and the pain that wracked her body was excruciating. Kenny was like a man demented, and she knew she had caused it all, caused this to happen because she should never have let it go so far in the first place. She had deliberately misled him, used him, had taken what he had to give, and now she was paying the price for that. Her mother’s death had made her realise what was really important, what she was missing.

Then, suddenly, Michael and Danny were there, and Kenny was being dragged off her. She watched in silence as they kicked him over and over again. Danny Boy was enjoying it, was using the man’s head like a football. She could see the pleasure on his face as he let rip, knew he was thrilled to have a good reason for his violent outburst. Her mother’s funeral was no place to lay down the law: Kenny had let the drink overcome his usual good sense. He knew that, and she knew that.

She listened as Kenny begged for his life and she closed her eyes when Danny Boy Cadogan took out of his pocket a brand-new Stanley knife and used it to slash at the man she had led on for so long. As Kenny’s blood sprayed over the dingy grey walls she felt the bile rise inside her, but she swallowed it down. She forced herself to remain calm, because this was suddenly far more serious than it should have been.

Michael, wide-eyed with anger, pulled her into his arms, while screaming at Danny to kill Kenny, to hurt him, and she knew then that what she had caused this night would have reverberations for years to come. Not just for her but for the three of them.

Lawrence Mangan listened to the debacle with everyone else and, like everyone else, he did nothing to stop it. But he knew then that these boys were out for the big one, were willing to take on the world to get what they saw as their right. He realised then, like Kenny, that he was not prepared for this new breed of villain. These young boys who were willing to kill on a whim. For no other reason than they felt like it. Who used a venue like this to make a point, and make that same point seem righteous? Kenny and Danny Boy were due a straightener and, in the real world, it should have come about in private and without the added bonus of a young girl’s virtue being in doubt.

When they finally walked out of the ladies’ toilet, Michael and Danny were both covered in blood and confident in the knowledge that no one there would speak against them. Even Kenny’s henchmen were willing to swallow their knobs and let it go. If anyone had thought they were out of order it would never have happened in the first place, they would have steamed in and defended their boss. Instead, they had been left to do what they wanted. It was an eye-opener all right. Not just for the people observing, but for Danny Boy and Michael as well. They had been given the green light by the powers that be, and they were loving it. Michael had hated the treatment of his sister by Kenny and now, at last, he felt he could hold his head up. His mother was dead, and her conviction that Mary should sleep her way to the top was gone, buried with her. He felt like a man now, and he was acting like one.

 

The funeral was talked about for months, and the death of Kenny was quickly forgotten about by the police who had not cared that much about it anyway. They had a good idea who had taken him out, but they were of the same mind as everyone else. It had been on the cards for years: his demise had just been a matter of time.

 

Danny was sitting with his mother. They were easy together at the moment because she wanted something from him. She always wanted something from him, and his natural reaction was to give it to her if he could. She wanted him to pay for his sister to go on a secretarial course, and he was more than willing to do that. Annuncia was desperate to be a secretary in a big firm. It was her dream and Danny Boy was all for granting his family their dreams if it was within his power.

‘Mum, you know I’ll bankroll anything that will help her get on in the world. She’s shrewd enough, and if this is what she wants then this is what she can have.’

‘You’re a good man, Danny Boy.’

His mother was huge now; her only real pleasure was eating since they had all grown up and away from her. She still cooked her gargantuan meals, only now she seemed to be the only one eating them. His father was still well able to tuck in, but even he had trouble demolishing the portions she had taken to dishing up.

Since the debacle with Kenny Douglas his mother had taken to treating Danny Boy with a new respect. Their reaction to Kenny’s outrageous behaviour at the funeral was seen as him and Michael being decent, upstanding young men who had taken umbrage at the treatment doled out to a sister. None of the men attending that day, and no one who had heard about it afterwards, could fault them for their prompt action. Kenny Douglas had been out of order, and the fact that he was now dead as a doornail, was seen as nothing more than divine retribution.

Even the police had not bothered to pursue the matter for long, choosing to believe he had been set about by a person, or persons unknown. That was the common excuse they used when they knew what had gone down, but had no intention of doing anything about it. It would have gained them nothing to charge two young men who, to all intents and purposes, had done no more than any man in that situation.

That Danny Cadogan was now courting Mary Miles only added to the romance of the situation. It had been a nine-day wonder, and it had given them all a kudos that was worth its weight in gold bars.

Danny and Michael were greeted like visiting royalty wherever they went, and they were also being offered more work than they could cope with. The casino was now a hangout for the criminally minded, and their wages had escalated so much they were unable to keep track of it all.

They were set up for life, and now what they had to do was take out Lawrence Mangan. Mangan wasn’t as enamoured of them as everyone else, and he was very vocal about that. In fact, his opinions weren’t making him any new friends, and that alone should have made him button his mutton. Instead, it just made him even more determined to prove his point. He was not going to bow down to a couple of kids he had employed, and who had the audacity to take down someone of such stature he was regarded as one of the main players in their world. What the fuck was that all about?

So Danny and Michael enjoyed their new-found popularity, and were waiting patiently for their chance to remove Mangan permanently. Danny was in his element, and his mother’s adoring glances were more than enough payment as far as he was concerned. As she told anyone who would listen, she was proud of him.

His main grumble was she wouldn’t move away from the flats now that he was in a position to buy her a house, she had refused time and time again. She liked it where she was and, as she told him, she would be like a fish out of water anywhere else, and he had to swallow that for the time being.

He was now ensconced in a large apartment on the King’s Road, and he loved the freedom it afforded him. But he still did the majority of his work in this little flat; the opportunity to get his washing done while rubbing his old man’s nose in it at the same time was too good to pass up. Life was good, and he was prepared to make sure it stayed that way, no matter what he might be called on to do to guarantee that.

Old Bill had given Danny Boy and Michael the equivalent of a hunting licence and, knowing they were protected from most things, gave them a feeling of complete confidence. It was costing them, of course, Filth didn’t come cheap, but they were worth every penny because without them they couldn’t have plied their nefarious trades with such openness and security. Danny was finally where he wanted to be. The sad part was that it still wasn’t enough for him.

 

Louie was watching and waiting, as per usual, before he made any kind of judgement. Over the years he had made a point of keeping a low profile and his opinions to himself until he knew the whole story. One thing he had learned was that people edited their bad deeds even more than they would embroider their good ones. He had always covered his own arse by waiting patiently until he knew exactly what direction the wind had decided to blow.

Michael looked older somehow; he seemed to have ripened overnight. Whereas Danny Boy had always had the look of the man about him, Michael had been blessed with what old ladies called boyish good looks. Now though, it was as if someone had wiped the innocence from his face, and replaced it with suspicion and hostility. He trusted no one, and this was evident by the way he questioned even the most innocent of statements.

As Louie saw them grow into their new roles in the world, he decided that the time had come to put them wise about what was expected of them by the powers that be. He was sorry he had to do this, in many respects, because they were still under the illusion they were working for themselves. If only life was that easy.

In their world, you were only allowed to work if you showed willing, and were prepared to make a generous donation now and again to whoever was
allowing
you to work in the first place. Up until now, they had not really understood the economics of the world they had decided to conquer. It was his job to explain the pecking order to them and, at the same time, make sure they understood that this was a non-negotiable situation. They had been allowed to run riot for a long time; now they were to be reined in and used, just like everyone else.

But they were shrewd enough; they should have sussed this all out for themselves. He was aware that Danny Boy would be the problem child of this comedy duo, but he was also confident that Danny Boy would swallow his knob and do what was expected of him, namely accept his fate and wait his turn, like they had all had to. They were finally accepted, were finally in the world they had courted so earnestly, now they had to prove themselves worthy of it, once and for all, and that was always the most difficult bit.

But he had confidence in them, well Danny Boy anyway; he had seen greatness in him even as a young kid, the man, he was sure, would become a phenomenon. He hoped so, because he had been working for them behind the scenes for years. Not that they would appreciate that, of course, like all youngsters, they thought it was their right. They thought they had earned it. Well, did he have news for them.

Chapter Twelve

Jamie Carlton was laughing, and he had what was generally agreed to be a seriously funny laugh. It was deep, it came from the heart and it was infectious. He was the only person, Danny Boy joked, who actually guffawed. Jamie himself was tall, thin and, at twenty-four, he still didn’t need to shave. He was smooth-skinned and so fair he couldn’t go out in the sun without going bright red and looking like a Belisha beacon. His father was Donald Carlton, an old Face with a crooked smile, a vicious state of mind, and a genuine belief that Jamie was not his son but, because he was still legally married to the boy’s mother, he had to show willing where the boy was concerned or lose face. So he treated him as a son, gave him an earner, while his suspicions grew all the time.

Jamie, as luck would have it, had a knack for bookmaking. He could lay off a bet in his sleep, and he made his staff in the betting shops so nervous that tills were never more than a penny out, and he hoped against hope that his father’s suspicions were unfounded. However, he could understand why his father felt as he did. His mother, a lovely woman, was not exactly what you could call the faithful type. Indeed, she had been seen with more men than Danny La Rue. It was a terrible situation really, because Jamie knew he was accepted as a Carlton, but he also knew that his position was tenuous, to say the least. In fact, if his father decided to give vent to his suspicions, he would become an outcast in minutes. And he was determined to make sure that didn’t happen. If his father was to die, however, there was no way anyone would or could question his paternity, and he could get on with his life without that shadow of doubt hanging over him. As his father was short, dark-skinned, overweight and bald, Jamie could understand better than anyone why he was so preoccupied with his only child’s parentage. Even as he understood this, after all, he had been taller than his father since he was twelve, he was still prepared to take his old man out to ensure he got what he saw as his due. Whatever the rights and wrongs of the situation, it wasn’t his fault. He’d had no control over any of it whatsoever. He was, to all intents and purposes, Jamie Carlton, and his father had put his name on the birth certificate, so he was legally his old man.