The Good Life (5 page)

Johnny put the kettle on and hunted through the cupboards for clean cups. One thing with Johnny Mac, he could make the most awkward situation seem normal. Eileen was repairing the damage to her face, and Jenny was just sitting there, white as a sheet.

It really hit her hard, how these kind men, who had been so good to her and Bella, must see her and her world. For the first time, she was viewing her life as others perceived it. It wasn’t a good feeling. Sometimes she hated her mother even as she loved her.

Johnny clapped his hands together loudly. ‘Cuppa’s on the way. Any biscuits?’

‘Look what that fucker’s done to me! Scratched my neck all over, and I’ll have a black eye. Fat fucker, he is.’

Cain and Johnny laughed.

‘You’ve had worse I should imagine and, look on the bright side, at least you ain’t been banged up.’

Cain took two twenty-pound notes out of his wallet and passed them to Eileen, saying, ‘Go to the chemist, get some salve or whatever it is you put on bruises.’

Eileen took the money, then she looked from him to Jenny thoughtfully and she smiled. ‘Give me a lift, would you, Johnny?’

Johnny looked at Cain who nodded imperceptibly, and the two left the flat.

Cain poured out two teas and he placed one before Jenny, her face still a white mask of humiliation and horror. Like him, she had realised her mother was offering her only child to a strange man. Fucking Eileen Riley, mother of the year as usual.

‘Drink that up and you’ll feel better. I put lots of sugar in it.’

Jenny didn’t move, just sat there like a statue, staring at her hands. Cain Moran was annoyed with himself. Why was he bothering with this? What was the attraction of this young girl?

But he knew what it was all right. She affected him in so many ways. From her sad eyes, to her big full breasts, she had somehow entered into his psyche, and he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He had a wife and a handsome son − true, he took the occasional flier with a bit of strange − nothing significant.

But what he felt for this girl was different to any feelings he had ever had before in his life. It didn’t make any sense. He’d only met her twice. And each time she had caused him nothing but aggravation.

‘Has your mum ever done this to you before? Left you alone with strange men?’

Jenny stirred to life then as she said indignantly, ‘No, she hasn’t. How could you even think that? I’m not like her! I’m
nothing
like her.’

‘All right, all right, keep your hair on.’ He believed her and he was inordinately relieved that she was a nice girl. ‘Are you going to be OK, love?’

She shrugged, and he noticed how slim her shoulders were; they didn’t look capable of holding up those enormous breasts. She really was a stunning-looking girl. She nodded. He noticed she had relaxed a bit now she knew his intentions were honourable. She finally looked into his eyes and his heart constricted in his chest. This was trouble he really didn’t need.

Richie Jakobs was fat in every way, from his huge belly to his double chins; even his hands were pudgy. But he was surprisingly light on his feet and, even though he looked like he was six seconds behind everyone else, he had a razor-sharp mind. He was, in truth, a mathematical genius and, if he had been blessed with a different set of parents, he would have taken his brain to university and learned how to put it to good use.

Instead, he was a haggler. He had bookies, and he was used by everyone to work out percentages. His main fault − and they were legion − was he could never resist a scam of any kind, especially one where the odds were in his favour. He was wary of Cain Moran − who wouldn’t be? He had a fearsome reputation.

But with the likes of Jamie Jones beside him, Richie felt that he was in a much better position. Jamie wasn’t a mug by anyone’s standards. In fact, he had a good reputation when it came to looking after himself. Jamie Jones was also known as a man who could earn, and earn well. He was tight-lipped and cunning, the qualities needed for the type of work they engaged in. They could make a formidable team.

There was a lot of talk about Jamie Jones. Years before he had been the recipient of a serious hammering, and had been hospitalised for four months. But he had come out with nothing to show for his sufferings except a scar across his right eyebrow. Rumour at the time was he had tried to have over the Moody brothers from Canning Town. But no one was saying anything, so it was pure speculation.

Frank Moody had been found bound, gagged and beaten to death on Southend Seafront. His brother Gerald had never been seen again. It was a mystery all right, but the general consensus was that Jamie Jones had been behind it and, as such, his rep had shot up into the stratosphere.

The fact that no one knew the truth was just how Jamie liked it. He wouldn’t give his size in a shoe shop, he was so close-mouthed. So, all in all, Richie Jakobs was pleased with his choice of partner.

When Jamie walked into the pub, Richie watched him for a few moments. He definitely had a presence, good-looking despite his scar. He was softly spoken, but when he did talk, people listened to him.

Richie hailed him loudly, as if he had just come back from five years abroad. ‘You missed all the excitement! I do believe Cain Moran’s going soft in his old age.’ He quickly filled Jamie in on the story that was already doing the rounds.

Jamie listened carefully and, when Richie had finished, he murmured, ‘The man’s a gentleman.’

He could see that was not the answer Richie had expected. But Jamie was a shrewdie; he liked Cain Moran and everything that he had heard about him. Cain was only twenty-eight and already he was more or less at the top of his game. That was no mean feat, especially these days when the courts were handing out outrageous sentences. Jamie wanted this meet, and he wanted it badly. He also hoped that he could swerve this fat cunt Richie into the bargain. He didn’t like him and he didn’t trust him, but he couldn’t get this deal off the ground without involving him, at least at the beginning.

Richie was unimpressed with the way Jamie had come to Cain Moran’s defence so he said carefully, ‘Never liked the schoolies myself. She’s only about sixteen. Looks older though, in fairness.’

Jamie knew exactly where Richie was going with this, and he said in his usual careful manner, ‘You know something, Richie, I had you down as a lot of things, but a fucking village gossip wasn’t one of them.’

One good thing about Richie Jakobs was he knew when to shut his big mouth.

Cain picked up on the tension between the two men as soon as he sat down. Johnny was at the bar getting the drinks in, and Cain shook hands with Jamie, not bothering to do the same with Richie, which was noted by all.

‘Sorry for the delay, guys, seems I walked into a Keystone Cops style situation.’ He made light of it, but he knew there was already talk about why he had bothered to defend Eileen Riley and her daughter. ‘People forget this is my stomping ground, and I hate the Filth, especially that fat wanker Billings. If ever a man needed a fucking smack it’s him.’

Johnny Mac laughed. ‘She is funny, though, that Eileen. I remember years ago when she beat up that bloke, what was his name? You know, Cain, short, fat Greek with a bald head . . .’

Cain laughed too, remembering. ‘Fuck me, I’d forgotten all about that. Costas, that was it. Used to have a café on the High Road. He didn’t pay her, she used to go out the back with him while his wife was at work. He would fuck a fence, that cunt. Woman mad. She gave him the hammering of a lifetime, and then told his wife everything.’

Richie laughed loudest before he said nastily, ‘Never trust a Tom, eh? Fucking slags. Any bird that earns a living like that can’t be trusted.’

He had genuinely not thought through what he was saying, but the faces of Cain and Johnny reminded him just who he was talking to.

Cain sipped at his whisky, saying smoothly, ‘Fuck me, gents, we are sitting with a man of the world! Who would have thought it? By the way, Richie, my mum was a brass, and so was Johnny’s, as I am sure you know. It wasn’t exactly a secret, like.’

Jamie couldn’t resist a little smile at the big man’s predicament. This suited them all because it wrong-footed Richie and that made it easier to push him out of this deal once it was laid out. Jamie had a sneaking respect for Cain Moran; he had taken his opening and used it beautifully. He would enjoy making this bloke’s acquaintance.

‘I think after that faux fucking pas the next round’s on you, Richie.’

Richie Jakobs jumped out of his seat and hurried to the bar. The other men smiled at each other in perfect accord. Then they got down to business.

‘He’s after you, Jen, and you’d be a fool not to take your chance.’

Eileen was still getting over the shock of the day’s happenings. Not the fight − that was not an unusual part of her week − but Cain Moran turning up like that and obviously knowing her Jenny by name? That was the shocker for her, all right. She hugged herself with the knowledge that her daughter had given them guaranteed kudos by her connection with Cain Moran, however tenuous it might be. He was a handsome fucker and all, the jammy little cow. But, in fairness, her daughter was a beauty. Like her, she had the looks that sent men crazy, and she also had the body to go with it. Eileen didn’t want her to waste that like she had.

Jenny Riley felt a faint stirring inside her belly at her mother’s words. ‘Don’t be so silly, Mum, he was just being nice.’

Eileen wasn’t fooled for a second. ‘Look at you doing a cherry! You look like a Belisha beacon. Seriously, Jen, if you’re going to aim, aim as fucking high as you can. Youth don’t last that long, take it from me.’

Jenny got up from the sofa; she had tidied up after Cain had left and wished she had tidied up before. The place was a dump, but at least now it was a clean dump.

‘He’s just a nice man, Mum, you know? Kind.’

She told the story of her and Bella up in Soho and watched with a certain satisfaction as her mother’s eyes stretched wide in disbelief.

Eileen laughed at the end, though, saying, ‘Fuck me, Jen, you’ve always been a bit too good and then overnight you nearly end up on the bash in Soho. Thought I was bad enough!’

They both laughed at the absurdity of it.

Then Eileen said seriously, ‘Look, Jenny, you are your own woman. I knew that years ago. All finicky and nice − fuck knows where you got that from. But, for all my faults, I do care about you, darling. If he comes sniffing round, you think long and hard about knocking him back. He’s a catch − a married catch − but that don’t mean fuck-all these days, love.’

Jenny smiled, and didn’t answer her mother. She loved her but she had a mouth bigger than the Blackwall Tunnel. There was no way Jenny would admit she had agreed to meet Cain Moran for dinner. She kept the knowledge to herself. For the first time in her life she was going out with a big handsome man − who had a wife and child. He had explained that to her and, even though she knew it was wrong, she didn’t care. For the first time in her life, she was falling in love.

Cain picked Jenny up at Knightsbridge tube station. She looked absolutely gorgeous − and completely out of place. He drove them to a small Greek restaurant in Beauchamp Place; he often took his paramours there, as it was the last place he would come across anyone he knew.

One part of him was excited, the other half ashamed at his feelings for someone so young and so fragile. But he couldn’t resist. There was something about her and, whatever it was, he knew he would not miss this date for anything in the world.

He had left Johnny Mac with Richie and Jamie to tie up the loose ends of the deal, and then he had driven here with a feeling of anticipation inside him that he had not felt in years.

She looked stunning, even in her cheap market clothes and shoes. As he ushered her into the restaurant, he saw the looks she was getting from most of the men in the place and he felt an inordinate pride that she was with him. He pushed his wife Caroline and his son Michael to the back of his mind. Once he had fucked her she would lose her appeal, he was confident of that. It was the conquest with him more than the sex.

Her youth did give him pause, but he consoled himself with the fact if she was brought up by Eileen Riley she wasn’t going to be a raging virgin. She was sixteen and he was twenty-eight − only twelve years between them − and in another few years, that wouldn’t seem so great an age difference. It was all relative, as his old mum used to say.

‘Want a glass of wine? I think we know you’re not a vodka girl by now.’ He laughed at his own wit and was surprised to find he was actually feeling nervous. It was her eyes, so trusting, so fucking lovely.

‘Please.’ She was clearly even more nervous than he was and his heart went out to her. He wondered if he was getting soft in his old age.

‘I’ll order a bottle, darling, a good one.’

She nodded compliantly, unsure how to answer him. This was so far out of her usual life she just didn’t know how she was supposed to react. She was scared, if truth be told.

Cain Moran was all good-natured bonhomie but he could see that this was a girl completely out of her depth. What had seemed a wonderful adventure was frightening her, so he kept topping up her wineglass. He was going to get his leg over tonight if it was the last thing he did on this planet. She was exquisite, and he wanted her more than he had ever wanted a woman in his life.

When she laughed at one of his jokes, he realised the wine was finally doing its job and now all that was left was for him to do his. Happy days.

Jenny looked around her at the apartment Cain had brought her to. She was half drunk, and she knew in her heart that she should never have agreed to come here with him for a last drink.

The room was beautiful − velvet curtains and antique furniture. She was overawed by her surroundings, and she perched precariously on a leather sofa. Cain handed her a glass of brandy, sat beside her and pulled her into his arms. She settled against him and, as he felt the contours of her body, he was almost breathless at the prospect of what was to come. She looked up into his eyes and he saw such trust there that he felt a momentary pang of guilt at what he was doing to her. He lowered his head and kissed her; she tasted of brandy and garlic − not a bad combination at this particular moment. She smelled of cheap scent and deodorant, and he wondered at how she had such a spectacular effect on him, making him feel fifteen again.