She's Out (25 page)

‘Can I work out with you one day? I love doing weights.’

The train thundered past and the gates slowly opened. ‘Any time you like.’ John put the van into gear and they headed down the narrow lane back towards the manor.

Lennie reversed into a field gateway. He’d already driven past the manor, stopped, had a look at it and decided that the element of surprise would be more beneficial. He
was just about to get out when the van passed him. Connie didn’t see him as she was talking to the bloke who was driving. Lennie saw the van drive into the manor and followed on foot, well
hidden by the overhanging hedgerow.

They’d loaded the wheelbarrow and were pushing it back towards the manor. Dolly walked ahead, her arm slung around Angela’s shoulder. ‘You know you can join
special government courses, get further education, Angela, proper training in something. You should think about it, love, but you’re welcome to stay on here for as long as you like, you know
that. Do you like kids?’

‘Oh, yeah, and I’m used to them. I’ve got younger brothers still at school.’

Gloria muttered as she staggered along behind the wheelbarrow with all the guns as Kathleen carried the spades. They were still about a quarter of a mile from the manor.

Connie leaned in to John and gave him a long, lingering kiss. They broke away and then she kissed him again. ‘You’d better check your face before you go in.
Lipstick!’ She giggled as he wiped his mouth. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow?’

He watched her wiggle and sashay her way to the front door, turn and do her Marilyn Monroe pout. He blew her a kiss, felt stupid and quickly put the van into reverse. As he drove out, he
didn’t notice Lennie.

‘Connie!’

She knew his voice immediately, but in the darkness she couldn’t see him. ‘Lennie?’

He stepped forward and bowed. ‘Surprise, surprise!’

She began to pant with terror. ‘You stay away from me, Lennie. Don’t hurt me!’

He walked towards her, his arms out wide, smiling. ‘I’m not going to hurt you. Why would I do that? I’ve just come to take you home, Connie.’

‘I’m not coming with you, Lennie. You got to leave me alone.’

He came closer and now he wasn’t playing games. ‘You owe me, Connie, and you’re gonna pay it off or work it off. Suit yourself ’

‘I won’t go anywhere with you.’

She screamed and he dived for her but she kicked out, catching him in the groin. He lost his footing, tripping over a plank left by the builders. He swore, cradling his balls and gritting his
teeth in fury as he screamed, ‘
Connieeeeeeeee!
Don’t fuck with me!’

She was running, anywhere, any place to get away from him. He started after her, yelling with rage, and she sobbed and shouted at him to stay away as she ran on, heading up towards the
woods.

Dolly was rigid. She hissed at Gloria to keep her mouth shut as they all heard the sobbing and screaming.

Gloria let go of the handles of the wheelbarrow. ‘It’s Connie.’ She ran towards the sound of the crying.

Dolly started to follow and then turned to Kathleen and Angela. ‘You stay put, the pair of you, until I come back and get you.’ She tore after Gloria through the woods, hearing
another high-pitched scream.

Gloria had to slap Connie’s face. ‘It’s me, Connie, it’s me, Gloria.’

Connie clung to her. ‘He’s here. Oh, God, Gloria, he’s here and he’s gonna kill me. He was chasing me, he’s going to kill—’

‘Connie, listen to me.’ Gloria whacked her hard again. ‘Nobody is going to touch you, all right? We’re all here.’

Dolly was breathless when she reached them. ‘What’s going on?’

‘It’s that bloke, her pimp. He’s come after her.’

Dolly gripped Connie’s arm. ‘He won’t lay a finger on you. Gloria, go and get the other two. I’ll take Connie back to the house with me.’

A frightened Connie clung to Dolly as they made their way to the house. The grounds were ominously dark and silent. Wherever he was, they felt as if he was watching their every move and they ran
the last few yards past the stables and into the safety of the house. Dolly latched the door behind them and Connie sobbed, ‘What if he’s here, in the house?’

Gloria, Kathleen and Angela wheeled the rest of the guns into the stable yard and then carried them inside. Connie was sitting with a large brandy, her eyes red-rimmed from crying, as Julia sat
with her head in her hands, so hung-over she could hardly speak.

Gloria held up a shotgun. ‘Right, we got enough of these. If that prick shows his face, I’ll blow it off.’

‘We’ll search the house,’ Dolly said. ‘Some of the windows are out so if he’s here, we’d better find him. We’ll have a good look round, then you,
Connie, lock yourself in a room with Angela.’

Connie began to sob again and Dolly was almost irritated with her. ‘Shut up, for God’s sake! And you, Julia, get some coffee down you and sober up.’

Connie wiped her face with the back of her hand. ‘He said he’d take me back.’

Dolly shook her by the shoulders. ‘Nobody will make you do anything you don’t want to do, okay? We’ll sort it, Annie-Get-Your-Gun-Gloria and me.’

Gloria went over the grounds with the shotgun at the ready. She checked the stables, the outhouses and the yard, and even went up to the woods, but an owl hooted which gave her the willies so
she scuttled back to the front door of the manor. It was ajar and she pushed it slowly. ‘Anyone here?’

Dolly stood there with her hands on her hips. ‘Yes. Me, you fool. Did you see anything out there?’

‘Nope. Maybe he saw us and pissed off.’

‘Yeah, I think you’re right, but we’ll keep her upstairs with Angela. Then we can sort out the weapons.’

Ester drove into the underground car park of the Club Cabar. She’d been to three and this was her last hope. She hadn’t many options: it was Steve Rooney or back to
the Grange. She locked up the Range Rover, checked her hair and make-up, pulled her black dress down a bit further to show off her shoulders and tits and changed her driving shoes for spike heels.
‘Right, gel, do the business.’

She walked casually, full of confidence, towards the private lifts to the club. The car park was used by a number of offices in the day but taken over by the club at night so they had their own
small lift leading directly into their reception. As the grille slid back, a thick-set muscle-bound bouncer in an ill-fitting evening suit and crushed carnation looked over any customers entering
from the car park, as it was very much a members-only club. He nodded at Ester.

She gave him a cursory waft of her hand. ‘Is Steve in?’

‘Yeah, he’s wiv someone now. I’ll tell ’im you’re ’ere.’

‘Thank you,’ she said crisply, and headed towards the main room of the club. Its small sunken dance floor was empty but you could hardly see your hand in front of your face for the
blinking neon strips. At least the ornate, over-brassy bar was well lit and the row of red velvet-topped high stools had only one occupant: a swarthy, fat little man, drinking from a long glass
with a profusion of fruit and paper umbrellas sticking out of it. He was surrounded by sexy blondes with tight envelope-sized mini-skirts and tied blouse tops showing a lot of cleavage. Even their
high-heeled shoes were higher than Ester’s. They were giggling and whispering to each other as the poor sucker with the paper umbrella almost up his nose slurped a drink that had probably set
him back a tenner. The girls would make sure he was parted from a lot more before the night was out.

Ester perched on a stool as far away from the fat man as possible. The slant-eyed barman was doing a lot of gesticulating with his martini shaker to the deafening, thudding rock music that made
it impossible for anyone to have a conversation.

‘Hi, Ester, how ya doin?’ the barman lisped.

‘I’m doing fine. Gimme a Southern Comfort, lemonade, slice of lemon and crushed ice, easy on the lemonade.’ She lit a cigarette as she spoke, but he knew what she liked and was
already searching through the array of bottles. He skimmed up and down the bar and then whisked out a paper napkin and a bowl of peanuts before placing her drink down with a smile.

‘On the house.’

‘Cheers.’ She sipped. He’d OD’d on the lemonade. Through the mirror and brass fittings she saw Steve Rooney talking to the crushed carnation, who gestured at the bar.
Ester acknowledged Rooney, who put up his hand to indicate five minutes.

A few more punters arrived and wandered around. Ester signalled for a refill but stipulated no more lemonade, then took a handful of peanuts. It was strange. She’d been out of the business
a lone time, and didn’t know any of the girls now. She shook her head and smiled. What a life! She wanted out. She hated the whole scene, which was why she’d moved to the Grange, and
for a while she had been coining it. She didn’t have time for any further reminiscence as Rooney tapped her shoulder and pointed at his office. She slid off the stool, drained her glass and
followed, flicking a look at the little fat man. ‘I’d get out while you’re still on top, man.’

Rooney eased himself round his fake antique desk and then perched on it. ‘So, how’s tricks, darlin’? I just hope you’re not touching me for a few quid. As you can see,
we’re not exactly filling the joint and it’s Friday.’

‘It’ll pick up, always used to.’

His polished Gucci loafer tapped the side of the desk. ‘What do you want, Ester? I know you’ve schlepped round a few places tonight.’

‘Warned off me, were you?’

He smiled. His eyes were pale blue covered by tinted glasses. ‘You’re not still wheeling around in that Range Rover, are you?’

She lit a cigarette, clicking off her lighter.

‘You really are stupid, you know that, don’t you? You tried it on with the wrong kind, Ester. They got a lot of dough and they’ll use it to find you.’

‘No kidding. Doesn’t scare me.’

‘It should. That was a stupid move. They paid out a lot of cash for you, and what do you do?’

‘I did three years and I kept my mouth shut. They ripped me off.’

‘No, they didn’t. How were they to know you had a string of offences as long as both arms? They paid your taxes and your lawyer, and you come out, try to nail them for more cash,
then nick the kid’s motor.’

She stubbed out the cigarette. ‘They got enough of them. What’s one little Range Rover?’

‘It wasn’t what it was, it was you doin’ it. It was stupid.’

‘Yeah, maybe, but you seem to know a lot about my business.’

Rooney sighed and picked a bit of fluff off his Armani jacket. ‘Because I supply them now, okay? I’m not gonna hide anything from you. It’s not as if I nicked your clients. You
were inside.’

‘Yes, I was, and now I need a job, Rooney.’

‘Don’t look in my direction. I can’t help you and I’m not going to put myself out for you, Ester. You never gave me a leg up when I needed it.’

‘But I sent a lot of clients your way, you cheap shit.’ His face tightened and Ester would have liked to smack him. Rooney had once been a barman she had hired for special parties,
back in the old days when she ran a house for two major club owners. They’d have the clients drinking and eating at their respectable joints and when they wanted a girl Ester supplied them.
She kept ten good-looking tarts, and they were always busy. There were private parties for movie stars, MPs, tided perverts; in fact anyone the club owners gave membership to would at some time or
other end up at the Notting Hill Gate house . . . until it was busted. Ester had served a few years way back then, and when she came out of prison, she had been determined that the next place would
be her own, so she turned tricks solo for four years, working the main hotels until she had enough to put down on Grange Manor House. Rooney, a barman at Notting Hill Gate, had learned fast, and
soon after her bust, which he was never questioned about, he had gone to work for the club owners.

It had been Rooney who had sent her the Arab clients for the manor, and he’d taken a cut. But, just like her bust at Notting Hill Gate, when it went down at the Grange Rooney’s name
was never mentioned. Rooney had even suggested to her that if she played her cards right, she might even earn extra by making a couple of videos of certain clients at the manor. He had sold a few
for her, just light porn stuff, but when she told him about the tape she’d made of his Arab clients’ kids, he had walked away. He told her that if she had any sense, she would as well.
A couple of movie stars caught with their pants down was one thing but not the so-called flowing-robed royalty: that was asking for trouble.

‘You don’t know how to say thank you, do you?’ she said curtly.

Rooney leaned close. ‘Sweetheart, I owe you fuck all. You done nothing for me. Whatever I done, I done all by meself.’

She laughed. ‘You’re still an illiterate shit.’

‘Maybe I am, but I’m a fucking sight richer than you are and I don’t want any aggro. That’s why I’m in business and you’re nowhere.’

She was about to remind him of who gave him his first job, but there was a rap at the office door and Brian, the crushed carnation, appeared.

‘There’s a party of six kids, they said to ask for you. None of them are members but they look as if they got a few readies.’

Ester stood up, smoothed down her dress and saw the car keys on the desk. She whipped them up fast and then picked up her handbag. ‘Well, I’ll be going.’

Rooney asked her to go out of the back entrance. ‘I don’t want any aggro, Ester. I’m sorry.’

She pushed past him and he looked at Brian. ‘If she’s in that fucking Range Rover, get it.’

Brian moved away as Rooney closed his office door and headed into the club’s reception.

Ester walked out through the kitchens, down the fire escape and into the car park. She was searching in her bag for the Range Rover keys when she saw Brian stepping out of the lift, accompanied
by another equally thuggish bouncer. They walked nonchalantly towards the Range Rover and leaned against it. ‘This isn’t yours, is it, Ester? Give me the keys, darlin’.’

‘Piss off.’

Brian made a grab for her and she twisted the keys into her fist, jabbing hard at his face. She caught his right eye, a beaut, and he backed away. Ester felt her hair being torn out by the roots
by his friend and she screamed, hurling the keys at him. But by that time Brian was back and taking a swing. Ester fell on to the dirty garage floor and tried to crawl away. She was kicked in the
head, the ribs and the groin, curled up in a tight ball to protect herself, but they kept on kicking until she half rolled beneath a car.