The Factory Girl (23 page)

He came home around eleven. She was still up, despite now aching all over as the muscles stiffened from the fall she had taken. She hadn't yet told him about that because it might have meant mentioning the letter she had posted to his father. Now it was different.

Conscious of her aching limbs and of a small pain in her stomach, she sat very still in the armchair as he came into the living room. Waiting until he had come over to kiss her, and then offering only her cheek, she held the letter out to him as he stood back in some surprise at her cold reception.

‘This arrived today from your father,' she announced, and in case he thought something bad had happened to his parents, added quickly. ‘It was addressed to me in answer to one I wrote to him.'

‘You wrote to him?' he queried as, innocently, he took the open sheet of paper.

‘I felt a need to. Read what he says, Tony.'

She remained very still while he read, mainly because the movement of her muscles was so painful. She watched his face closely, saw it change from smiling bewilderment to concern then alarm. She was still watching his face as he looked up, a silly grin beginning to spread across his features.

‘So you've caught me out.' He even managed a chuckle and put his hands above his head, elbows crooked, the letter still clutched in one hand.

‘Fair cop! OK, I confess!'

‘Please do, darling.' Despite the endearment, her tone was frigid.

Sitting down in the other armchair, he studied the letter again, she suspected so as not to meet her steady gaze still trained on him. Seeing she wasn't to be messed with, his tone when he spoke had become thoughtful.

‘I know what you're thinking, that I've got money by borrowing.'

‘Have you?'

‘Well, yes and no.'

‘What does that mean, yes and no?'

He was gnawing the inside of his mouth as though trying to make up his mind how to reply.

‘Well?' she prompted and he gave a start, looking up at her for the first time.

Still she waited while he scrutinised her face, taking his time about it until she felt she wanted to scream at him. Yet she sensed he was trying to define her mood, debating whether it was safe to divulge whatever secret he held for being the possessor of all this money that had not come from his shop or his father. Finally she could stand the scrutiny no longer.

‘Well, what do you mean by yes and no?' she repeated.

Again he started, seeming to come to life rather like a clockwork toy suddenly switched on. But when he still made no answer, this time she moderated her tone. He needed to be coaxed and anger wasn't going to do that.

‘Is that all you've done, Tony, borrowed money?'

His responding nod struck her as unconvincing. There was something he hadn't yet told her, she was sure of it.

Something was slowly dawning on her. As the wife of a jeweller, even a small-time one who fashioned much of his stock from bits of glass, scraps of silver and semi-precious stones he himself would cut and grind and polish, she was aware that there might be the odd petty thief or two appearing at his back door with something to sell.

She'd always seen Tony as one hundred per cent honest. A dishonest man would never have done what he had – offering to help her parents out of trouble when Dad had been ill, even in the face of Dad's rude and ungrateful rebuffs. Yet her mind sped back to the time when she'd come downstairs and found him with a scruffy, furtive-looking man, the pair of them startled and alarmed by her entrance, Tony recovering himself, passing the caller off as an old army chum looking for a handout. Had that man been looking to lighten himself of his haul for a bit of cash, a burglar, one of several? Many a time she had heard that back door to Tony's workshop open, but had never thought much of it. Now it all made sense.

‘You haven't been dealing in stolen goods, have you, Tony?' she accused outright, instantly wishing she hadn't asked the question and wondering why she had.

To her utter surprise and some little shock, Tony nodded, crestfallen, and she leaned quickly towards him, wincing from the sharp pains the movement caused. She ignored them. ‘How often, Tony?'

‘Quite a bit.' His voice sounded small. Then he seemed to make up his mind, almost eager to talk. ‘I suppose I ought to have told you, darling. But I thought you'd never want anything to do with me again. That shop was never going to make money, and when you and I began going out together I knew I had to do something. Under no circumstance was I ever going to go back to law and have my father tell me what to do and what not to do for the rest of my life, especially as my parents would never have accepted you, never understood that I loved you down to my very soul and that I could never give you up.'

Despite what she'd discovered, Geraldine's heart leapt at those words.

Tony's features, however, were contorted and he seemed very near to tears from the emotion inside him. He leaned towards her, the letter crushed between his fingers.

‘That first time, I thought buying a few bits off an old mate couldn't be that bad. He needed the money and I didn't ask where the stuff had come from. I named a price and he was happy and a few days later I sold the stuff on to another dealer. Somehow word got around and I found it was too late to start refusing stuff. Some I resold, some I melted down and remade into other jewellery to sell myself. It was money for old rope. I found it becoming quite lucrative and it enabled me to buy you things I could never have afforded before. Then one day a man came to me and spoke about doing a deal – big money.'

Tony was talking faster and faster as if eager to get it all off his chest. ‘I said I didn't want to get in that deep but the things he said made me certain he'd go to the police if I didn't comply. I was scared, so I did. It's that which started all this. But it hasn't been as bad as I thought it would be. I'm in with these people now. They are professionals and so long as I deliver and don't ask questions there's nothing they wouldn't do for me. They promised that. And they've now proved it, by giving me … not lending me, darling, but
giving
me the money to furnish this place. That's why it's so beautifully furnished.'

She had wondered about that, had thought his father must have been mad to give so much to him. Now, of course, she knew better.

‘It's they who are paying the rent on this place. They are the ones who have been inviting us out, all those people I've introduced you to at parties, at the theatre, at restaurants. I actually feel I can call them friends. They have been very good to us. They're really nice people, darling. You said yourself that you liked them, and they like you very much.'

She'd wondered many times about that too, how he had come to find such a prosperous, fun-loving set.

‘The times when you've not been with me,' he continued, ‘they asked after you, thought you were ill and could they do anything for you, and when I told them you were expecting our baby, they sent their good wishes and said they will buy the best for it as birth presents. As for my new shop, they will pay the rent on a prime position in Bond Street. Not too ostentatious but respectable. It's they who arranged my giving up the old shop. And I'm also to find a site in the suburbs where I will be able to operate a smelter.'

Geraldine came to life. ‘You mean for melting down big stuff, bullion?'

‘Well, precious metals of course, but I don't think it'll ever go as far as bullion. I really don't know what it'll be. They've not said.'

‘Of course you know,' she spat out, the effort hurting her, but her reaction was now one of anger at him. ‘You're not daft, Tony. You know the score. They've got you wrapped around their little finger and you've let them. You've walked right into it, haven't you? People like that know a greedy man when they see one.'

‘I'm not greedy, darling!' He too had grown angry.

‘Of course you are, you want everything. If that's not greed—'

‘And so did you,' he cut her short. ‘You wanted everything too. That's why you married me, because I was your way out of the muck you lived in.'

‘That's not true!' she burst out, indignant. ‘I fell in love with you.'

But was that really true? She had wanted to escape the life she'd led, had wanted something better, and he had been her way out. That she had fallen in love with him had been an added bonus … no, that had come first. Or had it? She was confused. The truth batting against her brain was rebounding from side to side like a hard rubber ball. It almost hurt. She hurt. Her stomach was aching too.

‘I fell in love with you, Tony,' she persisted, trying to calm herself.

He had calmed down too. He put out a hand and touched hers. ‘I know. And I loved you, still do, with every part of me. But please, darling, please understand. I admit I was a fool, but I've got myself in too deep to get out. I have to go along with it. So long as I'm protected, and these people protect their own – they don't kill the goose that lays the golden egg – we'll be OK. I know there must be other people handling their stuff, but so long as I am trusted I'm all right and I'll be well looked after.'

She had a sudden frightening thought. ‘This isn't the Mafia, is it?'

He gave a little chuckle, almost of relief. ‘I don't think so. If it was they'd keep things to their own, not some failed country lawyer like me. I think they're just a firm who needs someone like me, that's all.'

‘What if you get caught?'

‘I shan't, not so long as they're OK.'

‘What if any of them get caught?'

‘People like them have a code of honour, Geraldine. No one squeals.'

He was talking like a gangster, and she suddenly realised that she too was talking as though she was colluding with him. He was all smiles now, his hand tightening hers reassuringly. He was at ease, glad to have it off his chest at last and her on his side.

‘Don't worry, my darling,' he was saying. ‘Everything's going to be fine, and you and I will be living in the lap of luxury, don't you worry.'

On the face of it he was self-assured; inside he was full of unease and had been so for months. How could he have been such a fool to have this creep up on him without seeing the consequences? He was almost glad Geraldine now knew the truth.

And she was right. If he were honest with himself it did all amount to greed. From that first innocuous knock on his back door by an army chum down on his uppers and turning to crime as the only way he could see to keep from poverty.

So easy, so bloody easy, offering a couple of quid for the lot, the man's face lengthening with disappointment, but before he could up his offer out of pity, the poor bugger grabbing the cash and bolting.

He'd enjoyed the experience of prising the stones from their settings, real gems these, the gold melted down and refashioned, the result sold on to some other jeweller he knew. Days later the army chum back with another haul – it had gone on from there.

The contact he'd met in a local pub, a chummy sort of chap, had quietly remarked that this was the business to be in, accompanied by a sly look, half a wink. Anthony knew what he was getting at; had felt the greed surge through him. Longing to get on in this trade he began to see profit with very little outlay and hardly any risk – just small-time stuff but enough to live comfortably on.

When bulky stuff came in he simply melted it down into small ingots to sell on to the outlets named by his contact in the pub. Where it ended up after that he didn't care, it was off his hands. Money for old rope.

It was a few months ago that things began to escalate, someone calling himself Dalkener entering the shop with a proposition. A small-time crook, he nevertheless made the eyes glitter at the promise of even more fine rewards for very little effort, and now he was beginning to see it come about. Now those he'd never thought to be dealing with were jovially shaking him by the hand, slapping him on the back, their wives and lady friends kissing his cheek on meeting, calling him darling, he being assured that any problems whatsoever, not to hesitate to ask for help and they'd be sorted out for him.

Geraldine too had been received with open arms, delighted by all the attention. But he knew the score. Clever people these, recognising his weaknesses and leaping in, tempting him with promises, promises they would keep, no question of that, so long as he held to his part of the bargain. And while he did there was no height to which he might not aspire, slowly being given an ever larger piece of the cake, in the process, however, sinking in deeper, and always underneath the feeling that if one day he did not toe the line, their retribution would be felt in no uncertain terms.

Did all of those in the world in which he had poked a toe, then a foot, then an ankle, feel as he did? Was this part of the price, knowing the end product might be to be caught, to go down for a stretch, one's family left to suffer? He'd heard criminals usually look after their own so long as the one going down could be trusted, so long as that person did not turn informer; a kind of insurance, of being part of a family. But if they were ever done down, he could imagine that were this family to be wronged, rather than a silent snub or a sharp word, there could be the silent blade or the sharp crack of a bullet to the head by some hired killer. Pleased as he was with his good fortune, he trembled at the consequences were he to fall foul of these people.

But he was being overimaginative. He pulled himself together and grinned at Geraldine, showing her a cool, calm and collected face. In her condition she mustn't be upset. Things would be fine so long as he did what was asked of him and that was simple enough – just do the job he was being paid handsomely for, handle the stuff that came in, send it back in different form and let them get on with disposing of it all. Couldn't be simpler.