Faces

  As Ange lifted the white tulle dress over Mary’s head and then carefully placed it on a hanger, all the time chatting away about the forthcoming wedding preparations, Annie bit down hard on her bottom lip to stop the words she was aching to say from spilling out. Instead, she walked from the front room carefully and, once in the kitchen, forced herself to relax.

  In the three months since her mother had given her a hiding, she had realised that her place in this household was very precarious. On the one hand she was Danny Boy’s sister, so that made sure she was treated with respect outside the home, but that also made sure that no one would ever have the nerve to approach her for a date. She was not allowed any real freedom any more, so her days of going out to places where she could be whoever she wanted to be were over, and the loneliness and hurt were overwhelming. But the worst thing was that her mother couldn’t look her in the eye any more; the situation that had caused such a rift was always there between them, and she was drowning in her own guilt and stupidity at letting it happen in the first place.

  ‘Cheer up, Annie love, it might never happen.’

  She turned to her father then, saw him as she had seen him for years, a crippled excuse for a father, and as the poster boy for her brother’s wrath, and she hissed, ‘As you know better than anyone, Dad, it already fucking has happened!’

  Big Dan didn’t argue with her; he knew it was pointless to say anything to any of them. They all lived in the shadow of Danny Boy, and he couldn’t see that changing in the foreseeable future. Like him, she couldn’t leave, couldn’t walk away, couldn’t choose anything for herself; like him she was trapped.

  As Ange bustled into the kitchen he knew that she felt the atmosphere acutely, that the situation was breaking her heart too, her daughter’s fall from grace had all but broken her, he knew that, but, as always, she acted as if there was nothing untoward going on. It was as if she was waiting for her cue from Danny Boy to see what the next step was to see how she should react, just like everyone else did; himself included.

  ‘Jamie will be the one to suffer, Louie, if it falls out of bed. All I want from you is a few guarantees, a few names of people you think might want to invest in this business venture.’

  Louie was nervous, but not so nervous he didn’t feel the cold hand of anger as it gripped his heart. Danny Boy should have respected him enough to take his initial ‘no’ as verbatim, not try and argue his case and talk him round. He was at panic stations, but he swallowed down his dread. He knew he had to force his point across or he would be caught up in the madness that was Danny Boy Cadogan. He was too old for this, too old for the worry of establishing a new enterprise; especially one that would be pounced on by the Filth if they ever got wind of it. For the money Danny and Michael were laying out, it would never be enough if the Filth in question ever got their expensive new collars felt. They always rolled over if they got a capture; there wasn’t enough money in the world for them if they had the threat of prison hanging over them. Bent Filth had a much harder time than anyone in stir, they were even more vilified and hated than their honest counterparts; a nicking off a bent Filth was seen as an abomination, a fair cop was one thing, an occupational hazard, but a nicking off someone who was classed as a grass was another thing entirely. They had not only let down their own from the moment they had taken a back-hander but, once captured, they had then rolled over and turned on the hand that had been feeding them. It was outrageous and beyond anything most people could comprehend.

  Bent Filth always reverted to type and the fear of being placed in the general prison population with men they had stalked and cautioned in the past, always assured their complete cooperation. As far as Louie was concerned, there wasn’t enough poke in the world to keep any Old Bill on-side for the duration if it all went pear-shaped.

  ‘You cheeky little fucker, I said “no”, how many more times ...’

  Louie was angry, so angry he was now without any fear whatsoever. This wasn’t about declining a deal any more, it was about respect. About the fact that he had always looked out for this boy from when he was a kid. It was about not allowing himself to be intimidated by the boy’s self-assurance and his obvious expectation of agreement.

  Michael was amazed at Louie’s front, he was also surprised at his absolute negation of what Danny Boy had requested. He saw that Danny Boy felt the same way, and was pleased that he was not going to force the issue.

  Danny stood up, he was so upset that he was physically agitated, so disconcerted by Louie’s words he was nearly in tears. The obvious distress he was feeling made Louie feel awful. He realised then that Danny Boy had actually thought he was offering him a prize, an in, an earner, for no other reason than he wanted to reward him for his years of friendship. It was an eye-opener.

  Danny Boy hastened to make amends. He was unwilling to throw away years of friendship on such a small misunderstanding, but at the same time unable to control that famous temper of his. He needed to vent his spleen, even though he knew it was out of order.

  ‘Louie, calm down, mate, I just wanted to put you in the frame, that’s all. You could make a few quid, a good few quid, and you know I would guarantee that you wouldn’t ever be mentioned, not even in passing . . . So why are you fucking mugging me off ? Am I some kind of fucking Greebo that you think you can dismiss me like a fucking ice cream?’

  Louie was standing in front of him now, trying to calm him down. He was trying to hold onto his hands, bring him back down to earth, not let Danny’s temper get the better of him. He knew Danny was on the verge of losing it completely, and he was sorry to the heart that he had misjudged the situation so badly.

  Michael, although not as big as Danny, was still a fair old lump and, jumping from his seat, he pushed Louie out of the way. Grabbing Danny Boy’s shoulders he held him at arms’ length, using all his strength to keep him still, to stop him from becoming too agitated and therefore having to burn his anger off by wrecking the place. He was looking into Danny’s eyes, trying to force him to calm down.

  ‘Oi, come on, Danny, you know he didn’t mean anything cuntish . . . He’s an old man and he’s set in his ways . . . Now, stop this. Stop it. Louie is one of your oldest friends. Remember? He is your main man. Relax, come on, calm down, mate.’

  Louie watched in sheer terror as Danny Boy gradually calmed himself, as he forcibly brought his emotions under control, and he finally understood that this wasn’t the same boy he had mentored. This was the boy who had a reputation these days as a calm and cold-blooded adversary. But he also knew that this was a hot-headed man who was completely unable to keep a lid on his temper if he felt in any way challenged or thought that his plans were being thwarted. He knew then, at that moment, that Danny Boy Cadogan was that rarest of breeds; a real and bona fide lunatic who could only get worse. There had been a few of them over the years, but never one as shrewd as this mad bastard in front of him. Danny Boy was bereft of any kind of reasoning, was unable to see further than his own wants and desires, and that was always going to make for a dangerous and untrustworthy man.

  As Louie watched the whole scene unfolding in front of his eyes, saw the way Michael talked him down carefully and calmly, and saw the way Danny Boy finally responded to him, he knew then that eventually no one, no matter who they were, would ever be able to rein Danny Boy Cadogan in. The damage was already done; he knew better than anybody how this boy had been forced to take on the mantle of protector at a very young age, had needed to, in effect, save his family from the Murray boys and also to pay them back for their audacity. Louie knew how he had been forced to stand up to them and make sure he was the victor. Something he had only been able to do because of his championship, because of the fact that he, Louie, had put the hard word on everyone and taken this boy under his wing. Now he was seeing a side of him he had always known existed, but had believed would only ever be used against his enemies. Never against his friends.

  As Danny Boy turned to him once more, his eyes now focused
and his face open and full of the pain he felt for his outburst, he grabbed Louie into his embrace, into his enormous arms and hugged him so tightly he thought he might pass out with the pain. ‘Dear God, help me.’ He could hear him repeating it over and over again.

  Michael watched them, his dark-blue eyes screwed up in pain, and his whole countenance one of somebody who knew that they had just tamed a wild beast, and knowing that they wouldn’t be able to do that for much longer.

  Walking unsteadily from the Portakabin, Danny Boy went to his car, a navy blue Jaguar and, leaning with his back against the bonnet, he closed his eyes tightly and prayed softly for the strength to regain his self-control once more.

  Michael sighed heavily, the deep quiet that had now descended on the confines of the Portakabin was almost eerie. Even the usual noise of the traffic seemed to have stopped; it felt as if they were both suspended in time.

  The sudden ringing of the telephone was so loud it made both men jump. Louie let it ring, and when it finally stopped, both men’s nerves were shattered.

  ‘He don’t mean it, Louie, he loves the bones of you . . .’

  Louie didn’t answer him, and Michael watched Danny Boy outside as he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag on it. He sighed once more then, this time with relief. Once Danny lit up, it usually meant he was over the worst of it.

  ‘How often does he get like this, Michael?’

  Michael shrugged, and Louie admired his loyalty even as he felt the urge to slap him soundly across his face. Michael’s handsome face was troubled; away from Danny he looked far more virile and handsome. Next to Danny Boy he seemed to be watered-down somehow; seemed weaker and less masculine. Yet Michael could have a row if the fancy took him; he was just not as inclined to fighting as Danny Boy was. He was submerged in Danny Boy’s shadow and that was a shame because that shadow was now huge, thanks to his latest skulduggery.

  ‘Answer me, boy. How often does he lose it completely like that?’

  Michael shrugged; his natural reaction to any kind of questioning about his partner and best friend was to keep quiet. It was how they lived, but he also respected Louie and knew he deserved some kind of explanation, so he thought for long moments before answering, ‘It depends, he’s just got a lot on his mind. What with the wedding, the businesses, you know what he’s like. He don’t mean the half of it.’

  Louie picked up his cigar from the ashtray, his hands shaking noticeably and, lighting it, he said with renewed force, ‘For the last fucking time, boy, how often does he go off like that?’

  Michael wiped a hand across his face. The film of sweat that was now plainly evident was caused by a nervous reaction to the questions being asked, and they both knew that.

  ‘About once a month, but he can handle it, and I can handle him if needs be, so there’s no need to discuss this with anyone else, is there?’

  Louie was appalled at Michael’s open-handed threat, but he was also impressed with the boy’s loyalty, even though he felt that he was crying out for a fucking slap. They both were. Danny Boy especially.

  ‘And you are quite happy for him to marry your sister, are you?’

  Michael didn’t answer him. Instead he motioned for him to be quiet as Danny Boy came back into the office, his face now settled into a smile.

  Looking sheepish and ashamed he said to them both, ‘What can I say, eh, guys, never poke a gypsy in the eye with a sharp stick; it will only end in tears.’

  They laughed then, but they all knew it would never be the same between them again. Danny Boy had stepped over the unwritten line, and Louie would always have that in the forefront of his mind; the trust was gone now. Danny Boy, on the other hand, would have to live with the fact that he had, with a few choice sentences, alienated the man who had provided him with every opportunity he had ever been offered.

  Danny Boy couldn’t help his anger; he expected people to do as he requested, and he expected them to do it quickly and without question. If he felt he wasn’t getting the right reaction, he tended to lose sight of the big picture, the main goal and, when he was also under the influence of amphetamines, as he was today, his usual anger, which he could more or less keep under some kind of control in normal circumstances, tended to escalate out of all proportion.

  ‘I love you, Louie, you know that, mate.’

  He was already cutting himself a line on the dirty desktop; six lines of speed were lying there, big, fat white lines that should have been for six individuals instead of just Danny Boy and then, with a rolled-up fiver in his hand, he snorted them, one after the other. He lifted his head up and holding a thumb against his left nostril sniffed so hard it forced his head back on his shoulders and left him looking up at the grubby old ceiling. His earlier antics were forgotten now, and he was all good-humoured bonhomie.

  It finally dawned on Louie Stein that Danny Boy Cadogan’s colossal anger would only get worse as the years went on. That he was so unstable he was a danger not only to everyone around him, but most of all to himself. It also occurred to him that there was nothing he could do about any of it without landing himself right in it on all sides. Danny Boy had also always had the edge; now he knew it was because he was five-pence short of the full shilling. He was a nut job, his father had seen to that, and the knowledge broke his heart.

  Mary and her cousins were laughing and joking as they made sandwiches and tea. Ange was thrilled with the girls being round her house so much, and was surprised at how much she enjoyed their company. To have the house once more ringing with laughter and happiness was like a salve on the canker that was her life. Even Danny Boy seemed happier in himself, though you could never be sure where he was concerned. He was so strange at times, but she knew that he was only trying to earn a living for them, so she allowed for his moods and the hurtful remarks that he directed at anyone he felt was even remotely trying to sneak out from under his jurisdiction. The only person who seemed able to do as they pleased was his father, and that was, in itself, a personal slap in the face. His complete disregard for the man spoke volumes.

  Now, as she watched the girls chatting and laughing, she knew that Mary was only there because her own mother wasn’t around any more to give the poor child advice, not that she would have given her any advice worth taking, of course.

  Ange felt the weight of the responsibility she had been given, and she prayed that this marriage would stop her elder son from coming round to her home so much. She was relying on Mary Miles to take over the burden of her son, his black moods, and his colossal anger.

  She sat in the small lounge and Mary brought her in a cup of tea. As she took the cup and saucer from her, she looked at the girl sadly, and said quietly, before she could stop herself, ‘Don’t do it, Mary, he’s a hard man to live with and, God forgive me, I should know. Think about what you’re doing, child. You’ve not long buried your mother . . .’

  Mary was scandalised at her future mother-in-law’s words and she frowned deeply; her pretty face showing her contempt for what the woman was implying, and believing it to be nothing more than a jealous mother’s rambling. A last-ditch attempt at keeping her favourite son at home with her. Mary saw the sadness in Ange’s eyes and was sorry for her, wondered if she would feel the same when her own son was about to leave his mother’s home. In fairness to Ange, Danny Boy had been the breadwinner for a long time and, with her new generous spirit, she almost understood that she could resent another woman taking her place in her son’s affections.

  Mary put her slim arms around her dumpy future mother-in-law’s neck and kissed her gently saying, ‘Don’t worry, Ange, I’ll never take him away from you completely. He loves you and I love him for that, for the way he’s looked out for everyone.’

  Ange didn’t answer her, instead she put her head on the girl’s ample bosom and cried like a baby. That’s how they were, arms entwined, and their faces wet with tears, when Danny Boy and Michael walked into the room.

  It was a scene that stuck in his mind and left him
with a feeling of deep unease. Michael was, as always, thrilled at anything that he saw as emotional, loving, and Danny Boy copied his friend’s reaction, as he had copied his reactions many times in the past. It was Michael who he emulated, who showed him how to respond to situations, because he never knew how to. He actually had no real feelings except jealousy and anger. He was sensible enough to know that the feelings he lacked were the feelings most people felt on a daily basis. But he had long ago stopped feeling anything really, especially fear, empathy, sorrow, happiness, or love. As he saw his mother and Mary hugging he felt nothing but annoyance. He smiled though, as he knew he was expected to.