The Life (22 page)

Petey was absolutely gobsmacked and his cousin’s amazement pleased Danny no end.

‘I gave him an ultimatum, so to speak, while he was getting a blow job in the front of his car from a fifteen-year-old Asian kid – not that I have told any of my brothers that, and I expect you to keep it to yourself as well. It will come out eventually, that kind of thing always does, and it is best we have nothing to do with it whatsoever. I have given him my word that I’ll keep schtum, and I will honour that.’

Petey Bailey was still reeling. Colin Farmer was a ladies’ man
– he played the part of the womaniser with gusto. Peter had never had an inkling that the man might be an iron hoof. ‘That is fucking unbelievable! How did you find out? His old man would go fucking spare.’

Danny shrugged. ‘A little bird told me!’ He had no intention of letting on that he had a network of people on his payroll whose only job was to find out anything and everything about anyone and everyone in their world, including his close family, and their cohorts. Knowledge was power, and he knew the value of secrets. He also knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that one day the knowledge he was so patiently gathering would be worth more to him than money alone.

Petey was thrilled that his cousin had got them such a bargain. Like his brothers and his cousins, he was weary of the situation between their fathers, but they knew they had to work around it, and they were doing a pretty good job. They had the family businesses, and they had their separate businesses; somehow they made it all work.

Danny poured them both a large brandy and, saluting his cousin, he said happily, ‘To us, cuz, onwards and upwards.’

Petey clinked glasses with him. ‘That sounds fucking good to me, mate!’ Then he laughed again, his huge head shaking with mirth. ‘I can’t get over it! Colin Farmer, a fucking shirt lifter!’

Daniel looked at his cousin then and said seriously, ‘Petey, he’s a fucking nonce. The boy was a fucking schoolkid, he was barely fifteen.’

Petey digested that information slowly before saying, ‘Fuck me, you’re right. That’s fucking gross.’

Danny shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Tell me about it, Petey, but it will all come out in the wash. Until then, the fucker’s mine.’ Danny drank his brandy, savouring every sip, safe in the knowledge that he now
owned
Colin Farmer lock, stock and
fucking barrel. And, before he was finished, he would own a lot more people. He was his father’s eldest son; it was down to
him
to bring back some kind of respect and admiration for their side of the Bailey family, and he was going to make sure that happened. They were not going to be perceived as second best any more. All his life he had watched his father go his own very strange and very peculiar road, and he had realised early on that it had not gained them anything of any real value. His father, unfortunately, was a man of extreme but random violence – not something that was seen as a drawback in their world normally. But Danny understood that his father’s complete disregard for the moral codes that they lived by, and his inability to see his actions as anything other than justified, had caused them serious problems. His Uncle Peter had ensured that his father’s more outrageous escapades had been overlooked, but they were still remembered.

Well, now he and his brothers were grown up, and they were not going to stand by and play second fiddle to anyone; he was working day and night to make sure that the sons of Daniel Bailey were seen as trustworthy and, more to the point, as men in their own right. Petey Bailey and his brothers had
nothing
to prove, and Danny was pleased for them, but he and his brothers had to work twice as hard to prove their worth. They were willing to do that, to bring a good wedge to the table, and show their Uncle Peter that they were more than capable of scratching a good living. And, unlike their cousins, they would achieve it against the odds.

Petey Bailey watched his cousin as he rolled a joint, and he wondered at what it must be like to live in the shadow of a father like his Uncle Daniel – a bona fide fucking nut-job. Petey loved his cousin; he felt sorry for him, because he had a lot to live down, but he was confident that Danny was well able to do the
job. And whatever Daniel Bailey Senior was, he was still a man who could terrify the average man on the street. He was still one of the Bailey brothers, and that counted for a lot in their world.

Lena was delighted with her daughter’s Communion dress – it was absolutely beautiful. She was glad that she had let Ria help her with the choice. She felt that Ria had much better taste than her, and would know what material was suitable, and what style would suit Tania; she had a knack for all that. As Lena looked at the finished article, she was absolutely beside herself with happiness. It wasn’t simply a dress, it was a gown! The sleeves alone were a work of art, all hand-stitched, and screaming class. Oh, she was so excited about the Communion now. Not that she hadn’t been before; after all, it was not a fashion parade – it was a very serious event. Her daughter would be making her First Confession, and partaking of the Holy Eucharist for the first time. Lena blessed herself quickly at the thought.

Even so, she could not stop looking at her daughter’s dress, and admiring it from every angle. Having a girl meant you could really push the boat out – even the poorest of the families did. Holy Communion was a big event in the Church, and in a child’s life. Her Tania would be the most gorgeous child there this year, of that much she was sure.

Lena’s big worry was not about the ceremony itself, but about the party they were putting on afterwards at the Shandon Bells, for Tania and Delroy Junior. Peter and Daniel would be properly in the same room for the first time since the ‘big falling out’ as she called it. She was desperate to make sure that nothing
happened to ruin the children’s big day. She was relieved that things were back to normal between her and Theresa – that was one less worry anyway.

Tania came into her mother’s bedroom, smiling widely; she adored the dress almost as much as her mummy did. She was desperate to wear it and the accessories they had chosen. There was a small diamante tiara that would hold her veil in place, and a mother-of-pearl Bible that she would hold in her hands – hands that would be covered by white lacy gloves. She was going to look like a princess! She hugged her mother, and they stood together admiring the dress in silence.

Daniel walked into the bedroom, and when both of his girls turned towards him he saw the happiness on their faces. Grinning, he said jokily, ‘Is this the dress, then? I thought it would be delivered by the fairies! It looks like a fairy dress.’

Tania was excited already, but her dad’s praise was all she needed. ‘Do you love it, Dad? I love it.’

He picked her up and hugged her to him. ‘I think it is the nicest dress I have ever seen, sweetheart.’

Tania beamed with happiness.

‘It is lovely, Daniel, even if I say it myself. She will be the best dressed there, I know that for a fact.’

Daniel was pleased to hear Lena; he wanted his daughter to be dressed as he saw fit. She was a good-looking child, and he wanted her to be perceived as he felt a daughter of his should be – well dressed and a cut above the other kids. He remembered Imelda’s Communion years before; Ria had decked her out like a fucking society bride. Peter had told him the price of the dress and, at the time, he had thought they were fucking mad to pay that much for a child’s outfit – an outfit that she would only wear once at that. Now, though, he could understand it. A girl was a different kettle of fish when it came
to these occasions – they were special because they
could
be dressed up like miniature brides.

He would make sure that his daughter, his
only
daughter, would look expensive and classy if it was the last thing he did. He was learning, at this late stage, how to play the game and he was determined to play it better than everyone else.

‘Who wants to hear my good news, then?’

Tania hugged his neck tightly and squealed, ‘I do, Daddy! Tell me!’

Lena was smiling happily; she assumed it was about the Communion, it being all she thought about these days.

‘I have bought us a new house. A big detached house, and you, my princess, will have your own bathroom! What do you think of that?’

Tania was not sure what to think, and it showed. Laughing loudly, Daniel hugged her once more. ‘You will be able to have a bath in your very own bathroom!’

‘Really, Daddy? My own bath, just for me?’

‘Your own bath, princess, nothing is too good for you!’

Lena was watching him warily now. ‘You’ve bought a house without telling me?’

Placing his daughter on the floor, Daniel nodded. ‘Yes, I have, Lena, and not before time. We have the money and I want this little one to have everything we can give her.’

It was the right approach and he knew it. Lena would move heaven and earth for her daughter, she would gladly move if it meant Tania would get the benefit. He wondered how they had coped with the boys in such a small space. But, then again, he hadn’t cared in those days, one way or the other.

Tommy Barker was very happy with Theresa – she suited him perfectly. His mother was Irish, and his father had been Scottish, so he had been brought up with the best of Catholic intentions and, as big a rogue as he had eventually become, he had never really left his Catholic upbringing behind.

Seeing Theresa so excited about her granddaughter’s Communion was something he had never thought would affect him so much, but it had, and he was looking forward to it as much as she was.

Theresa Bailey was a bit of a girl – there was no doubt about that! He had known her many years ago, and he had admired her then for the way she had worked for her boys, and shrugged off the stigma not only of having two children out of wedlock, but of having a child of colour into the bargain. In their day that had taken a lot of guts, and she had more guts than most of the men he knew. She had been devoted to her boys, which had been apparent to anyone who knew her, and she had never apologised for either of them. He had a sneaking feeling, though, that these days she felt the strain of her younger son more than she let on.

Daniel Bailey, the slippery little fucker, was trying to elbow his way into his affairs, and he was not sure if he was pleased about that or not. A part of him was amenable to letting a younger man take on some of the responsibility – Tommy was
not as driven as he had been years ago. But Tommy was in a unique position as the mastermind behind his earn – he laundered money for anyone who was anyone. He could take ill-gotten gains and make them into legal money with the least amount of fuss. That was his forte, and he had a niche in the market. He didn’t have a lot of people in his employ, but those he did have, he trusted implicitly. Handpicked, they were aware of the risks involved, which, although minimal thanks to his forward planning, were still dangerous enough to give the average person food for thought. It was a delicate and intricate business, needing a steady hand and, more importantly, someone who understood economics – of both the global and the criminal variety.

Tommy was a natural; he instinctively knew where to place money and when to withdraw money, he knew where to spend the cash and on what. These days he laundered money for the Russians. They were caked up with money – drug money, he assumed. He had a few tame lawyers in his employ who were more than happy to organise cash purchases of expensive properties in London and arrange large mortgages on them. Subsequently, the owners of these properties now had legitimate cash to spend, invest or just put into high-interest accounts. It was a doddle really, and these days he was bored with it. He would not be averse to Daniel Bailey doing the donkey work, giving him more time to enjoy his old age.

He was feeling older than he cared to admit. It was comfortable being with Theresa – he liked that they were of an age. Tommy’s penchant for young girls was long gone – he wanted someone he could talk to properly, someone who understood the Life, who he didn’t have to buy with expensive trinkets and exotic holidays. Theresa was still a good-looking woman, and she didn’t take any shit. Coupled with her lust for
life, and her sense of humour, that made her a diamond. Tommy was, for the first time in years, settled, contented. He realised he genuinely loved her. He still had a good earn, which he valued, but he was ready to hand over the reins. All he wanted these days was a few drinks, a good laugh, and the occasional sexual encounter with his Theresa.

As he listened to her singing along with the radio, he smiled, his mind made up. Daniel could take over his business if he really wanted to; in truth, he would be doing him a favour.

As he walked down the stairs and into the kitchen he was a much happier man. Now that he had finally made the decision to get shot of his businesses, he felt freer, as if someone had taken the weight of the world off his shoulders. Daniel was a hardcase, and that was exactly what was needed in his game; Tommy would teach him, take his cut, and gradually fade into the background.

‘You look happy.’ Theresa was in a good mood; she was always in a good mood since she had taken up with Tommy Barker.

‘That, my darling, is because I am!’

‘Well, I can tell you now, Liam, Imelda doesn’t like her, but she’ll get over it. Look, if you’re happy, son, I’m happy.’

Liam was embarrassed; he could feel the heat as it washed over him, and he knew that he looked a fool. He’d been confident that his mother wouldn’t care about Mandy’s profession. She had heard him out, welcomed Mandy and her little lad as if they were visiting royalty, and now he knew she would defend his choice of partner if the need should arise.

‘Thanks, Mum, I knew you would understand.’ Ria smiled. Liam was still so young, but he was clearly genuinely enamoured of this Mandy and she seemed like a nice girl. She was a looker, there was no doubt about that – in fact, she was stunning. She was a very polite young woman, and she had a beautiful speaking voice; the fact she was a stripper was something Ria knew she would just have to overlook. She had a feeling Amanda wouldn’t be stripping for long anyway, not if her son had anything to do with it. The little boy was well looked after, that much was evident, and Liam appeared to adore him. It was strange really – her Liam, the ladies’ man, had been knocked for six by a pretty face. Well, as long as he was happy, that was the main thing. She thought it might do him good to take on a bit of responsibility – Christ knew he needed something to focus on; he was inclined to drift.