Faces (48 page)

Danny Boy grinned at her as if he was totally calm and collected, but Michael could see the way his knuckles had whitened and how his eyes were now filled with malice.

‘Don’t you give it another thought, Mrs Wilson, I’ll have a word, get it sorted. Now, have you got any of your famous bread pudding on the go?’

Nancy smiled happily. She was convinced her problems were finally over, now that Danny Boy was taking control of them. She had every faith that he would have them sorted in no time; he owed them and she knew that and, more to the point, Danny Boy knew that.

‘ ’Course I have, I makes it special for you two, don’t I.’

Michael had suddenly lost his appetite. Carole was right, he was living on his nerves, and his nerves were tighter than a virgin’s arse and getting tighter by the day. He was living a life fraught with the dangers of Danny Boy’s precarious personality, and the worst of it all was, he actually cared for the man. Much more than Danny Boy Cadogan actually warranted.

 

Jonjo was aggravated, and it showed. He was still waiting to be picked up and taken to his designated place of work. It was made all the more annoying by the fact that he knew this so-called work could have been done by anyone with the brain capacity of a retarded hedgehog. In fact, that would make them over-qualified in many respects, at least a hedgehog would have had the sense to keep out of the fucking freezing cold. With his habit, the approaching winter was not a welcome addition to his life. In fact, he was living a lie of Olympian standards. It was a lie so big, he was already trying to think up excuses for living it in the first place. Danny Boy treated him like the muppet he knew he was. That still hurt though because, like his older brother, he was afflicted with an overabundance of pride. Unlike his older brother, however, he didn’t let that stand in his way if a few quid could be earned with the least amount of collar. That he was a ponce in every sense of the word was a given, that deep inside he resented his idleness, was something he had to come to terms with. But the lure of the brown was so seductive, the annihilation of anything even resembling normality was too good an opportunity to pass up. He liked this life, at least he accepted it, which was a different thing altogether.

He was his father’s son, and that was not something he would ever admit out loud; that Danny Boy was watching over him was not something he dwelled on either. He hated being such a fucking crawler and he hated that everyone around him knew the truth of that. He hated that he was spoken to for no other reason than his last name was Cadogan, and that Danny Boy saw fit to see that he had some kind of employment. That he was a glorified gofer was not something he dwelled on. He did what was requested, and then forgot about it. He knew that was exactly why he was not asked to do anything of importance, was not treated as a vital and important part of the Cadogan empire. He hated that, even while he was secretly pleased about it. If Danny Boy gave him responsibility he couldn’t fuck off and leave it to whoever had been assigned to watch over him on that particular day.

When he finally heard Danny Boy’s key in the door he was truly pleased to finally know what he was likely to be doing that day.

Danny filled the doorway, his huge body was, as always, its usual, intimidating self. ‘Sorry, mate, I had a few things to do. You all right?’

He pushed past his little brother abruptly and, going to his mother, he kissed her gently on the cheek before saying sadly, ‘Me dad’s stone arrived from Italy yesterday. I want you to go with Michael and make sure you’re happy with it, all right. I think it’s the nuts but, at the end of the day, I might be weighing out for it but you know what you want it to say.’

Ange was over the moon at his words, as he knew she would be. He knew her big fear had been that the grave would be left unmarked. He was sorry she didn’t know her elder son well enough to know he would never let that happen.

‘It’s black Italian marble, Mum, cost the national debt and, without trying to make you feel bad, there’s room enough for your details when the time comes. I hope you’re pleased with it.’

Ange was already pulling on her coat, and Danny Boy helped her into it with a gentleness that belied the colossal anger he was holding inside himself.

As she left the house a short while later, he shut the front door behind her gently. Then, turning to his younger brother he stared at him for long moments before saying jovially, ‘You
useless
little cunt. I
want
your kit, I
want
your brown and I
want
your fucking arse, in that order.’

Annie heard the commotion, but was sensible enough to turn up the radio in her bedroom; there was no way she was going to interfere in this latest of dramas. Not even when she heard Jonjo’s voice begging for mercy, and the muted thumps that accompanied his terrible pleading. Danny Boy was doing what he saw fit to solve the problem of her brother’s life and, for once, she was in total agreement with his actions and his deeds. Jonjo needed a short, sharp shock, and now he was getting one, courtesy of the man who, once word hit the streets that he knew of his brother’s unfortunate habit, would then sanction Jonjo’s retirement from the drug-addicted community. As much as Annie hated Danny Boy at times, she knew his reputation as a Face gave them all a lot of freedom in their community.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Carole looked beautiful. Even though she was not the usual size ten, the dress she had chosen for her wedding was spectacular. She knew she had Mary to thank for that. The dress emphasised her good points and hid what were jokily referred to as her child-bearing hips. And she wanted children, she wanted them desperately. Like Michael, she felt the need to procreate, to build a family network that consisted of her own flesh and blood. Carole looked over at Mary, she looked so lovely that Mary wondered why she wasn’t jealous of her in any way, jealous of her good looks. Her voluptuous figure and tight, taut limbs.

Mary had helped arrange everything. As matron of honour Mary was far more beautiful than the bride, but Carole had consoled herself that as she was her husband’s sister, that didn’t matter. She was grateful for her friend’s input, knowing that she would not have made the right choices if she had been left to her own devices. Carole was not like the usual Faces wives, women and girls schooled into the world they inhabited, and who were conversant with their husbands’ nefarious interests. Like the men they craved, they were almost all amoral, and saw pound signs where other women saw love. They rated a man on his reputation and earning potential, a real Face was their ultimate dream. They were generally familiar with the prison system at a young age, and had no real qualms about a man who was vicious or vindictive. In their world those attributes guaranteed them a good earn. A middle-aged man with a pot belly and acne scars was actually seen as a catch if he had enough zeros in his accounts, the most unusual-looking men could become the object of jealousy and envy. These women went into their romantic relationships in the same way that their men went into business deals, with their eyes wide open and their main interest in what the alliance could bring to the table for them and, ultimately, their families.

Carole though, was genuinely in love with Michael Miles, as he was with her. She also knew that Danny Boy held her in high esteem, and she was thankful for that much. He was someone she was in awe of, but who she also actually liked. He was always kind and respectful towards her, and she had accepted that he had his own way of going about things.

As she stood outside the church she wondered if Michael’s stag night might cause him to be late, but she knew she didn’t have to worry about that too much. Michael would never do anything intentionally to hurt her. But when her husband-to-be’s brother told her that he was already inside the church and waiting impatiently for her arrival, she relaxed immediately.

Annie grinned at her. She was a lovely-looking girl, and Carole wondered at how someone blessed with so much beauty could allow herself to be used like she did. In fact, she didn’t understand the girl, period. She slept with anyone and everyone, she suspected even Michael had been tempted by her. Annie used her body as a weapon and it was a very dangerous weapon at that. Her brother’s lifestyle and obvious respect made her into an asset for a lot of them around here. Not that bedding her would be a hardship, of course. Her own rep, however, made her damaged goods no matter what her last name was. Annie was like an accident that had already happened and, instead of waiting around for the ambulance, she just got herself up, brushed herself down, and then waited for the next accident to arrive. She was a deeply unhappy girl and her self-destructive antics were like a lot of her contemporaries’. Women in their world were judged by their sexuality from an early age; schoolgirls were regularly checked out by men who could have fathered them. They were all desperate to be grown-up, to be seen as adult. A child was seen as an identity; they were not teenagers any more, they were
mothers
. A title they felt made them into adults overnight.

Carole had been brought up as a good Catholic girl and, unlike a lot of her friends, she had taken that role seriously. Not that she had been pursued like the others, she had not advertised her wares or dressed provocatively. If she had done, she wouldn’t be marrying this kind man today.

Like Michael, Carole saw these women as they really were, and not as they wanted to be seen. That what people thought of them and the lives they were purported to live, meant more to them than their actual day-to-day living was incredible to Carole’s way of thinking. She wouldn’t change places with any of them for all the money in the world. Their lives were such shams, and that they knew that as well as she did, and yet did nothing to make their lives better irritated her. Even as she understood them. A Face was a catch; look at her with Michael; he was a Face. To the majority of the women here, she had won the fucking pools two weeks in a row.

But Carole felt a connection with him, especially since they had become an item. And people treated her with the utmost respect, something she had never experienced before, even the people who had seen her as beneath their radar before now went out of their way to claim a friendship, make a claim to any kind of tenuous link to her family that they could manage. It was laughable really, except the people concerned were so earnest that she didn’t like to let them down. She was automatically nice back. It was her nature, she was a good person, and she knew it was beyond her to be nasty, or rude to anybody deliberately. Michael had told her to let it go over her head, a giraffe’s fart, he called it. But she was not comfortable with it at all.

Still, after today she could choose who she continued to be friends with and who she didn’t. Not that she would be horrible to anyone, of course, but her new status would afford her the luxury of not having to acknowledge anyone specifically unless she chose to. She could be a nice and friendly acquaintance to the women in her world, and then just concentrate on her new husband.

Carole had such a great reputation locally, everyone knew her as being kind, friendly, and the first person to offer any help if anything should occur within their community. Her marriage to Michael, Danny Boy’s right-hand man, had actually cemented her standing in the community, though she did not immediately realise that. She only hoped that her life with Michael would be everything she hoped it would be.

Mary was pregnant once more, and this time she seemed to believe she would hold onto the child full-term. Carole knew from Michael that Danny Boy had not been home for weeks, and this made her think that could be the reason Mary’s pregnancy had not evaporated like all the others. Danny Boy was the picture of kindness to her and, as much as she liked him, and she did like him, she guessed he was not the best husband in the world. She also believed it wasn’t any fault of Mary’s. Danny Boy would have been the same, whoever he married.

Arnold Landers looked very handsome in his morning suit and Carole saw his sprightly gait as he walked over to them. He was a very handsome man, and she knew that Michael, like Danny Boy, rated him highly. He had the south London operations all sewn up, and that was not an easy task, by anyone’s standards. She only hoped that Annie saw the good in him before it was too late. In fact, she hoped he was the man who would lead her young friend back onto the straight and narrow. Arnold was not the type of bloke who would swallow his girlfriend’s antics without a fight. But then again, he had to find out about them first. Although, having said that, the way that Annie was carrying on, that could prove to be much sooner than anyone expected.

Carole steadied her breathing and as she heard the first strains of her chosen music, the theme tune to
Gone With the Wind
, she walked slowly down the aisle on her father’s arm. Her head was held high, and her heart was open and waiting for her new husband to fill it with the love she knew he had in abundance.

Everywhere she looked, people were genuinely pleased for her, the wedding guests were all looking at her expectantly, as if her marriage would change everything about her new husband’s life. He was Danny Boy’s partner, although she knew that was a loose term for Michael’s actual place in the firm. He was the real brains of the outfit, but she understood how people saw Danny Boy as the main man in the relationship, and she also understood why it suited Michael for people to think that. He was the only person who could talk Danny Boy down.

It also meant that when Michael went in for the kill, no one would ever expect it. Though his wife-to-be wasn’t aware of that fact yet.

Carole saw Danny Boy watching her intently as she walked down the aisle towards her new husband and she made a point of not making eye contact.

She was radiant, as brides were supposed to be, and she was also beautiful, really beautiful, for once in her life, and she felt it then and there for those few minutes, she knew how it felt to be Mary. All eyes drawn to you because of how you looked, and conscious of that.