The Faithless (26 page)

‘Derek’s dad was a real hard case in his day, wasn’t he?’

‘So the stories go, real, serious hard man – took no prisoners.’

Linford remembered hearing a story about him, but he couldn’t remember what it was. Shrugging, he said carefully, ‘As long as you’re sure about this scam, that’s all. Derek is young, and he hasn’t got any real reputation yet. From what I’ve heard, he was only a whipping boy for a long time.’

Jonny sighed. Linford could be an old woman at times. ‘Look, I’ve done me homework, and he’s a kosher kid, OK? He’s had a few good earns and this is his big one. He’s getting a good little rep and I want him where I can see him, and that means working for me.’ Jonny was getting pissed off now and, seeing two young men at another table watching him, he snapped at them, ‘Had your fucking look? Want a photograph do you?’

The young men looked away. They knew who he was, and that was what had aroused their interest. Jonny was a name to them, he was famous. They dreamt of being him one day. The
difference was that, at their age, Jonny would have challenged anyone who had spoken to him like he just had, no matter who they were.

The owner of the restaurant came over then. ‘Everything all right, gents?’

Jonny nodded. ‘Yeah, sorry, mate, feeling a bit fragile today.’

The owner smiled coldly. ‘Well, that’s understandable, ain’t it?’

Jonny’s fist, when it hit him, was so unexpected he took the full force of it. Linford was out of his chair and holding his friend back in seconds. The other diners in the restaurant were watching in fascination and terror.

Jonny knew he had done a wrong one, but he was sick of the way people were judging him; they didn’t know him, they didn’t know the half of it. This little story would be all over Silvertown by the morning and he was glad. It was about time people remembered just who they were dealing with. He was sick to death of it and, right now, anyone was fair game. He had been too nice; he should have shown his strength from the off. He had tried to play Mr Nice Guy because he had been feeling guilty. Well, that was then and this was now, and he wasn’t going to take it lying down any more.

Outside the restaurant, Jonny looked over the A13 towards the concrete jungle that was Ford Motor Works and, spitting on to the pavement, he said angrily, ‘Fucking shithole this place, can’t believe we even bother to come out this far.’

Linford opened the car doors and, once inside, said calmly, ‘Like we’ve said before, things like what you’ve done leave a nasty taste, and thumping all and sundry ain’t going to help matters, is it?’

Jonny laughed. It was his old laugh, loud and raucous. ‘Fuck them, Linford my boy. Fuck them all. Now let’s get to Bow and be done with this lot. I’ve had enough.’

‘Whatever you say, boss.’

Linford started the car and they made their way to their meeting with Derek, neither of them saying a word, both lost in their own thoughts.

Jack Callahan was laughing to himself as Mary watched him in amazement.

‘Are you feeling the ticket, Jack? Laughing away there all on your Jack Jones.’ She was pleased to see him happy if she was honest; it was a long time since there had been any merriment in this house.

Jack looked at his wife and said seriously, ‘I have a lot to be cheerful about, my lovely, but I can’t say too much just yet. Once it’s over you’ll know soon enough.’

Mary was nonplussed at his answer, but she kept her own counsel; there were some things you were better off not knowing, and this sounded like one of those things. Jack had not been right since he had seen young Vincent earlier in the day, and whatever they had been talking about had cheered him up no end.

She smiled to herself; young Vincent was a nice boy and now she was pleased he was seeing her granddaughter. She had revised her earlier opinion of him. She had met Jack when they were teenagers and they were still together, so she wasn’t against young lovers like Cynthia was.

She pushed thoughts of Cynthia out of her mind; she was done with her and she didn’t want her taking up any more of her time or her life. It was the shame that was the hardest to bear, although the fact that people knew she had outed her daughter permanently had helped them get over that. But it was
the effect this had had on her grandchildren that really rankled. James Junior was still locked up in a secure unit. She didn’t even know what that meant until Miss Bellamy had told her, and the shock had really knocked her for six. But it was the best place for him. He wasn’t right that child; to do what he had done was not natural.

Still, at least Mary had heard from Gabby. She didn’t sound thrilled at her new accommodation but she didn’t sound too down about it. She was going to school at least, and she said it wasn’t that bad. Well, it wouldn’t be for very long. Miss Bellamy thought they had a good chance of getting custody of her, but it was down to the courts now. Mary sighed; she was too old for this drama.

It was Jack she really felt for though. He had taken it much worse than she had believed possible. He had liked Jimmy, despite his weaknesses. For all he came from a different background and environment, they had got on very well together. She suspected that Jack had felt sorry for the man, but then hadn’t they all? They would have felt sorry for anyone who had taken on Cynthia knowing her as they did.

And then there was Celeste to worry about. Mary had hoped she would finally walk away from Jonny after the last little lot, but it wasn’t to be. She thought Celeste should have seen him for what he really was, but the girl wasn’t right and hadn’t been right for many a long year.

As Mary walked into the kitchen, she felt an enormous pain. It hit her chest and travelled down her left arm. She was suddenly breathless and, as she leant out to grab hold of a chair for support, she collapsed on to the floor, knocking over the tea things on her way.

Jack rushed out to see what the commotion was and, seeing his wife’s grey face and shallow breathing, he phoned immediately for an ambulance, all the time cursing his elder daughter, and blaming her for her mother’s collapse. It was a wonder this
hadn’t happened before now; she’d had more than enough on her plate the last few years, and this was the upshot. If he lost his Mary, he would do for that whore of a daughter himself, and that was a promise.

Linford pulled in to the scrapyard in Bow, and parked between a new Daimler Sovereign, and an old stacked-head Mercedes. The Portakabin was ablaze with lights and, for a few seconds, Linford felt apprehension envelop him. He didn’t know what it was, but something about this whole set up stank.

He had tried to voice his opinion to Jonny but he wouldn’t budge. He was gagging for this villa lark, and who could blame him? It was the maximum return for the minimum outlay. It was all about renting offices, and looking the part. Once people parted with their dosh that was that. Over, done with, gone.

But it was Derek Greene who bothered him, and he could not for the life of him work out why. Then, as they walked into the Portakabin, it became as clear as day what had been niggling at the back of his mind. Now it was too late to do anything about it.

As she sat with her father by her mother’s hospital bed, Celeste breathed a sigh of relief. She was bad, but she would pull through. A heart attack the doctors said and, looking at her mother now, tubes everywhere and her face devoid of colour, Celeste wondered at how vulnerable she suddenly looked. Her mum had always been there for her. She had been a good mum, had loved her and cared for her, made her smile when she was down, gone without so her daughters could have things. Celeste felt the tears once more and choked them back. How had everything gone so wrong?

Her mum and dad blamed Cynthia but, although she was a part of it, in reality it was Jonny who had caused the trouble. As much as she had loved him – and she realised the significance of the past tense – she should have known that he was trouble. He was a violent criminal and she had swallowed that, believing love could conquer all. Well, it couldn’t. He had taken her sister and he had destroyed many lives.

She had gone back to him out of fear, fear of being alone, of having to earn a living, of going back out into the world; the world frightened her, the world was dangerous. Well, so was being in your own home she had learnt. Her house scared her; it was too big, too empty, and she longed for the bedroom of her youth.

She would give anything to be able to go back and do it all again, but that was impossible. She knew that if she had not
married Jonny Parker her mother wouldn’t be lying in this bed, and her father wouldn’t be sitting opposite her, terrified of losing the person he had loved his whole life. Poor Gabby wouldn’t be in care, and young James wouldn’t be in a lock-up unit for kids.

She
had brought this down on their heads by bringing Jonny into their lives. Celeste wasn’t sure she would ever be able to forgive herself, but one thing she did know was that she would not go back to that house. She would go home and look after her dad, and then her mum when she finally came back from hospital. Jonny thought that he had done everything for the best reasons, but she knew that he had done everything he had for no other reason than that he could. Seeing her mother like this brought home to her just how useless her life had been up until this moment. It was time to grow up and take responsibility for herself, and those around her who she cared about, starting now.

‘Can I get you a cup of tea, Dad?’

Jack looked at his daughter as if he’d forgotten she was there, then he just shook his head sadly and went back to watching his wife.

Jack knew that without Mary he would have nothing; he remembered everything she had done for him over the years, and was ashamed that he had never even made her a cup of tea. She had slogged and grafted to keep them all clean, fed and watered. He wondered how many meals she had cooked everyone over the years, how many beds she had made, how many shirts she had ironed. It was true what they said – you didn’t know what you had till it was gone. Never was a truer word spoken.

He glanced at his daughter and saw the fear in her eyes that he knew was mirrored in his own; like him, she had taken her mother’s presence in her life for granted. They all had at one time or another, especially that Cynthia – Mary had brought
her children up for her, been there for her in the good times and the bad. He knew how hard it had been for his Mary to turn her back on her elder child, and the result of their daughter’s actions was this heart attack.

Well, things were going to change, he was going to see to that himself. He never wanted to live through anything like this ever again, because he knew that if she went he would not be far behind her. A world without his Mary in it would be no world at all.

Bertie Warner was smiling, but it did not make him look in any way amiable. Jonny Parker’s shock was apparent, and that made Bertie a very happy man.

‘Surprised to see me, are you, Jonny?’

Jonny looked around him and, seeing the serious looks on the men’s faces, he felt truly afraid for the first time in years. Not that he would let this lot know that.

‘Well, well, well, if it ain’t Bertie Warner back from the dead.’ He injected as much humour as he could into the words.

But it was Bertie who got the laugh when he said, ‘No, not the dead, Jonny, me old son. Grenada.’ He looked at Linford then as he said seriously, ‘You’d like it there, son. A lot of fucking machetes, if you know what I mean.’

Jonny knew then he was on borrowed time and he said nonchalantly, ‘So you had a swerve. That’s all water under the bloody bridge now. What are you back for, fucking revenge?’

Bertie laughed now himself. ‘Oh yes, revenge, and to take back what was mine. Well, mine and Kevin’s anyway. He was my best mate, was Kevin. Me and him even did our National Service together, bet you didn’t know that? Back in the fifties when we were only kids. That’s where he got the nickname “No Face”. Playing poker in the stockade. But he was a good mate, a loyal friend, which is why you never approached me to have him over, you knew I wouldn’t swallow that. You knew I would
chop your arms off, and then put you in the boot of a scrapped car and crush you alive.’

Jonny laughed at Bertie but it was a thin laugh. ‘You’re joking! That kind of thing went out in the sixties with all the old Mustache Petes. You can’t touch me without recriminations, you stupid old cunt.’

‘Oooh, hark at her! I can do what the fuck I like, mate, and the sooner you get your fucking thick head around that the better.’

Jonny Parker had forgotten how ferocious Bertie Warner could be. Bertie was a known headcase; he also had a taste for torture, and that had always been his ace card. No one had ever wanted to cross him, because the consequences were dire. He had once burnt a man alive for cutting him up in his motor. Linford was worried, Jonny could tell, and it seemed that history was repeating itself. Young Derek wanted what
he
had, so he was teaming up with the man that he had originally taken it from. It was like a fucking nightmare, and Jonny knew the chances of him leaving this room alive were minimal at best. But he was not going out without a fight, that was for sure.

He glanced around him at the men in the room; all were heavies, ready for anything, especially young Derek Greene. How could he have been so dense? Linford had smelled a rat and he should have listened to his friend’s instincts. But, in fairness, it had been an eventful few weeks, and he was not exactly at the top of his game because of that.