The Business (55 page)

‘You ever see fit to question me about any of my fucking dealings again, and I’ll fucking kill you. You arrogant
cunt
. Should I want your fucking opinion in the future, I will request it from you in a civil and interested manner. I will ask you a series of probing questions, and I will then listen carefully to your well-thought-out and hopefully, your very enlightening answers. Until then, you keep your fucking conk out of my affairs. Do you get my fucking drift? Or would you like me to put it in writing so you can peruse it at your leisure?’

Jack understood then just why this young fellow was so well thought of, he was a real
bona fide
nut-job. He had no fear of anyone, and he had a rough dignity that was very difficult to ignore. Seeing him now Jack was frightened of what he could be capable of should he feel the need. Should he feel that he had been disrespected.

Pulling himself upright, Jack Carling knew when he was beaten. He spat out a mouthful of blood and, wiping a hand across his face, he felt the lumps and swellings that were already forming. He would look like a fucking accident victim for weeks. His ribs were broken, and he had trouble taking a deep breath. The shock of the attack was overwhelming him. He had never experienced anything like it before in his life.

‘I am sorry, Kenny, I was trying to diffuse the situation, that’s all.’

Kenny was smiling widely now, as if the earlier contretemps had never happened. He was the amiable friend, the joker. He was the big-hearted mate. He seemed unaware of Jack’s condition, didn’t seem to see the blood or the bruising.

‘I know that, Jackie Boy. All I am saying is, I am more than capable of diffusing a situation as and when I see fit and, for the record, I will reiterate once again, when I want
your
fucking opinion, I’ll ask you for it. Now, dump that cunt and let’s get back to the job in hand.’

Jack knew then that what he had heard was basically the tip of the iceberg where Kenny was concerned. He could see the absence of real emotion in his handsome face, in his deep-blue eyes. Someone had once said Kenny Dooley was a psycho, and he was. The big worry for Jack was that Kenny himself didn’t seem to know that.

 

‘Come on, Jordanna, I just want to have a coffee with you. Why are you so bloody against me? I am really trying here.’ Imelda was angry and irritated with her daughter and this came across in her voice.

Jordanna sighed. She was in a hurry, she was meeting Jamsie and she wanted to tell him her good news. But her mother accosting her in the street had thrown her off-kilter. Jordanna was a much more confident person since Jamsie had come into her life. She also knew, thanks to her brother, that he had handed the pimping side of his business over to his cousin Dexter. It was his way of showing that he was serious about her. He just dealt now, and he was more or less the main dealer in London. That was also thanks to her brother, as she knew. But Jordanna did not see that as a negative, all she was interested in was Jamsie O’Loughlin as a person. And that person was the love of her life. He made her feel good about herself. He made her feel like a valid person.

Now her mother was once more trying to inveigle herself into her daughter’s company and she didn’t want that. She didn’t appreciate her mother forcing her to spend time in her company. She had Kenny, why did she still think she needed Imelda as well?

‘I am late as it is, Mum. Maybe we can meet next week.’ She was already walking away from her. But, as she knew, Imelda was not going to be brushed off so easily.

‘Relax, will you? All I want is to know how you are. Surely you can spare five minutes for your own mother. Jamsie will keep. Christ knows, he would wait months for you if you asked him to.’ This was said in jest, but the underlying jealousy was evident to them both.

As Jordanna walked back towards her house she was annoyed with herself for her weakness where her mother was concerned. Where everyone was concerned. She always tried to keep the peace and old habits died hard.

Opening the front door, she heard her mother’s heels as she clattered down the hallway behind her. It was just like when she was kid, the feeling of dread that noise could still evoke inside her. The hollow click-clack of her mother’s stilettos brought forth another memory. She saw herself in her mother’s shoes, four-inch black leather courts, wearing a pink-and-lemon nightdress and, as she clattered up the hallway, she remembered being picked up by her mother’s bloke and taken into the bedroom, her little body protesting, screaming in distress at what she knew would happen to her, and her mother turning away. Her mother pretending she didn’t know the significance of the event, deliberately ignoring her daughter’s cries.

She was still nervous around her even now, she remembered far too much to ever feel comfortable in her presence. ‘How much do you want, Mum?’

She was standing in the kitchen now, her lovely face as always deeply troubled when her mother was nearby. Her figure was still good, tight. Like her mother she was high-breasted and slim of waist. She had also inherited her long legs and the knack of wearing clothes so they looked as if they had been handmade for her. She was opening her purse, ready to pay her off. Get rid of her.

Imelda was now acting the outraged mother. It did not sit well on her broad and very aggressive shoulders. It was an act that even a child would have sussed out.

‘I don’t want anything, Jorge. I have plenty of poke, your brother sees to that. I just want to talk to you, see if you’re OK. I care about you.’

Jordanna had put the kettle on now, and she was nervously waiting for it to boil. Her mother was watching her closely. It put Jordanna in mind of a stoat watching a rabbit, waiting for its chance to spring, its chance to kill. She knew that her mother had no real interest in her, she never had. She just wanted her onside, she had Kenny Boy but that wasn’t enough for her. She needed her daughter as well, needed her to pretend that her mother was once more an integral part of her life. It was all about pretence with Imelda. That was all her life had ever been.

‘I am fine . . . and you, how are you?’

She had a hard time saying ‘Mum’, it was not a word she found easy. When she said it, she knew it sounded forced, sounded all wrong. She knew it sounded more like an accusation than a term of endearment.

Imelda sat down on a kitchen chair, her body was fluid, still with the illusion of youth about it. For Imelda, her daughter was the equivalent of looking in a mirror. It was uncanny, she saw her own eyes, her own features. Only, her daughter was a much younger and softer version, of course. Too soft for her own good, if truth be told.

‘I am OK, I suppose. Are you pregnant again by any chance, Jorge?’

The question caught Jordanna off guard. She had not told anybody yet, she had been holding the knowledge inside her, enjoying it for a short while, hugging it to herself and allowing herself to daydream. She saw a child who would be a scholar, a child who would be so intelligent they would confound everyone around them. She imagined a little boy, or little girl, tremendously good-looking, so stunningly beautiful that people would remark on their handsomeness on a daily basis. She had dreamt up a child whose life would be perfect in every way. Who would be so loved that they would never know the pain of insecurity, the pain of knowing they were not wanted by anyone who really mattered.

But now that was spoilt. Ruined. Her mother knowing about anything was like a poison, it was now no more than a guaranteed bad deal. How she had known she was pregnant, she didn’t know. She couldn’t even start to imagine. But Imelda did know, and the worst thing of all was that her knowing just convinced Jordanna that, as always, she was doomed. Her baby was doomed, and her mother was the cause of it all. She hated Imelda for that, hated her for knowing her secrets and for speaking them out loud as if she had some kind of right to discuss her daughter’s life, had been a valid participant in it, thereby entitling her to have any kind of opinion about her. Her mother’s arrival at this particular moment, her assumption that she would be able to talk her way into her life, was absolutely outrageous. Her mother’s arrogance in thinking that she was so weak and stupid she would be thrilled at her sudden interest in her and her life made Jordanna absolutely livid. Her mother acting like she really cared about her when they both knew that
she
was the only reason Imelda had not been locked up and forgotten about made her feel so full of resentment and so full of anger she was finding it hard to breathe. ‘How do you know I am pregnant?’

Imelda smiled widely, her face for once showing what could be termed genuine happiness. Not because of her daughter’s condition, but because she had guessed it so rightly. It had been a shot in the dark, but her daughter was such a fucking moron that her having a baby was to be expected. She had a bloke, so a baby would be the next step. It was hardly rocket science. Jordanna was a fucking walking cliché and, in all fairness, that only made it easier for her to manipulate the situation.

‘A mother knows these things, Jorge. Have you told anyone yet?’

Jordanna shook her head vehemently. ‘No.’

Imelda started getting irritated with this daughter of hers. Trying to get any information from her was like getting blood from the proverbial stone. The girl was two fags short of a full packet. It was also obvious to Imelda that her daughter was a holder of grudges; life was shit, big deal, she should get over it. She was tempted to give this little whore her side of the story, but she knew she wouldn’t be interested in that. She was already determined to play the victim, well, so be it. She had nothing on her conscience where her kids were concerned. But the urge to slap this little mare’s face was really tempting. ‘Well, when are you going to tell people, love? It’s hardly something spectacular, it’s not like no one in the world has never done it before. How do you think everyone on the planet got here? Someone pushed them out of their body. You’re
only
pregnant, Jorge. I did it twice meself, for fuck’s sake, and I’m still here to tell the tale.’

Her mother had just dismissed Jordanna’s baby and her need to keep it a secret for a while as if none of that mattered at all. And, in fairness, it probably didn’t matter to her. Nothing ever did. Ever had, for that matter. Least of all her own babies; she had never really cared about them. Even Kenny, her golden boy, had only been a diversion for her.

Jordanna felt a black, filthy anger rising up inside her at her mother’s cruel disregard for her and her wants. She was suddenly overcome with all the feelings she had tried so hard to suppress for years. They were the reason she was so nervous all the time, was so worried and scared of ever really letting herself go. She had never once allowed herself to give free rein to her deepest feelings, and she knew it was because she always tried to keep the peace, tried to do what was best for everyone around her. She felt it was her responsibility to keep everybody happy, even if that meant she was buried under the weight of it all. And, looking at her mother now, it finally hit her that she had wasted her time trying to do the right thing. She knew now that she had not ever even made this woman think of her, let alone understand the sacrifices she had made. Her whole life had been one bad dream after another.

‘Do you really want to know
why
I ain’t told anyone yet?’

Imelda felt the tension in the air suddenly; she knew this was a loaded question, and she also knew that she had to answer it. There was a subtle change in this daughter of hers, she was now almost confronting her. It was as if she had grown up before her very eyes. Imelda knew she had to diffuse this situation, knew she had to keep this girl on board. There was a naked dislike in her daughter’s eyes now, it was as if she was challenging her to contradict her in some way. Jordanna had become the alpha female, she was angry enough to finally confront her mother for every wrongdoing real or imagined. Imelda was high, she had bumped herself up before coming to the house and she was more than aware that there had been a subtle shifting in their positions, knew she had to reclaim that ground if she was to make any kind of life with her kids, could guarantee herself an easy pass for the foreseeable future.

‘Why, why ain’t you told no one your good news, darling?’

Jordanna saw her mother’s fake smile. She was suddenly a little kid again, she was once more at the mercy of this selfish, self-serving bully. Only she wasn’t a child any more, and this cunt of a woman couldn’t hurt her.

Imelda was really on the defensive now, her daughter was not scared of her any more. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was about to hear some things she didn’t want to admit as truth. She was going to be reminded of her failings as a mother, would be blamed as
usual
for all the things that had gone wrong in her daughter’s life.

‘Are you fucking
kidding
me, Mother? Are you taking the fucking piss?’

Imelda shrugged. She was wary of this girl now, saw the strength in her young body. She was depending on the girl’s pregnancy now to stop this conversation from becoming violent.

‘How am I supposed to know what’s going on, Jorge? I ain’t a fucking mind reader.’

Jordanna was so shocked at her mother’s clumsy attempt at dignity, at her childish attempt at playing the innocent, that she was almost tempted to laugh. She was, for the first time ever in her life, unafraid; she could see her mother for the sad, disgusting bully she actually was. As a child she had been terrified of this person and that terror had followed her all her life. She could see the fear in her mother’s eyes at her retaliation and, knowing that she was carrying a child of her own, she realised that she had to find the strength to repel this woman once and for all, get her out of her life, and out of her head. She knew she had to get everything out into the open. If she didn’t do that now, she knew she never would.