Benny plunged an unresisting Billings’ hand into the pot and watched with glee as the man screamed in pain.
‘I bet that fucking hurts a treat, don’t it? You must tell Vic all about it the next time you have a chat.’
He pulled the blistering hand from the pot.
‘Where is he, Billings? You helped him, didn’t you?’
‘A-Across the Ch-Channel, that’s all. I don’t know where he went then. I swear! He was messed up very badly, could be dead . . .’
He was going into shock. Abul stared at his hand. It was red as a lobster and he knew the pain must be excruciating.
Benny held on to his temper for a few beats before he rammed the hand back into the water once more.
Billings finally lost consciousness. When he slid to the floor Benny kicked him in the head with all the force he could muster and splashed scalding water over his face.
As they walked away Abul slipped on the spaghetti that was strewn everywhere. Benny started to laugh and by the time they were in the car they were both in hysterics. They lit a joint and drove away, Shaggy blaring out of the quadrophonic sound system and shattering the peace of the desirable neighbourhood.
Maura finally buried Terry Petherick, but after all that had happened recently she found she couldn’t keep her attention on the simple ceremony. It felt as if her mother’s accusing eyes were boring into her body.
None of the boys came and she was glad. It was a poor turnout all round but she was glad about that as well. She felt she had closed a chapter in her life. She wasn’t to know that the most daunting part of the story still lay ahead of her.
As she clutched Carla’s hand she felt at peace for the first time in years. It wouldn’t last, but then as Maura had said herself many times, her life had never been peaceful.
Her old pals Marge and Dennis Dawson were beside her as she cried her last tears for Terry Petherick, the man they had introduced her to in another time, another place, an innocent world she could never hope to inhabit again.
Book Two
‘Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap’
Galatians, 6, vii
Chapter Six
2000
‘Happy birthday, Maws.’
Maura was woken by Joey and Carla jumping on her bed like maniacs.
‘The big five-O, Maws. What’s it feel like?’
She laughed.
‘You’ll know soon enough, Carla. In five years to be precise. Now where’s me breakfast in bed? I am practically a pensioner now, I’ll need help being fed.’
‘They say that fifty is the new forty, Aunt Maura.’
Joey giggled. At nearly twenty he was still like a young boy, and though it didn’t bother Maura, it bothered his mother. He was big like all the Ryan men, but he was effeminate with it. He was a mummy’s boy as Benny was always pointing out, and even though he said it for a joke Carla found it hard to laugh with the others. She watched as Joey slipped into bed with his aunt and had to swallow down her irritation. He was too old for all this skitting about and she was going to tell him as much very soon.
She grabbed his arm and said heartily, ‘Up and out, you. Get Maws her breakfast while I give her the presents and cards.’
He got out of the bed and his eyes spoke volumes as he looked his mother over. He walked from the room in a huff.
Maura smiled ruefully.
‘You might as well get your head round it, Carla, he’s gay or my name ain’t Maura Ryan. Let him be, for God’s sake. It’s no big deal.’
Carla didn’t answer. She looked so like her mother when she was cross or upset. She had the same red-brown hair and green eyes. Even at forty-five she was a good-looking woman and her slimness gave her the look of someone much younger.
The doorbell rang and a few minutes later Joey came into the room with a huge bunch of flowers. Maura laughed with pleasure and when she opened the card her eyes were bright.
‘They’re from Tommy Rifkind, wishing me a happy birthday. At least he didn’t write ‘‘fiftieth’’ ’ on them so that’s in his favour.’
Joey left the bedroom singing ‘Love Is In the Air’ and Maura laughed again.
Carla smiled.
‘He’s mad on you, Maura, and he’s a nice bloke. I wish he was after me, I’d give in like a shot.’
‘Really?’
At the question Carla started grinning like a Cheshire cat and nodded. ‘I wouldn’t kick him out of bed.’
Maura gave a dirty chuckle.
‘Neither did I!’
They screamed with laughter once more, like two teenagers discussing the merits of their latest beaus.
‘Is he any good? Bet he is, he looks the rooty type.’
Maura pursed her mouth.
‘My lips are sealed.’
Carla shrugged.
‘Your legs ain’t apparently!’
‘You cheeky mare!’
‘Open your presents before Graham Norton gets back with your breakfast.’ Carla’s voice was sarcastic now.
‘Don’t say that, Carla, he’s a good kid.’ The laughter had gone from Maura’s voice.
Carla sighed. ‘I know. But I don’t like it, Maura. It ain’t natural.’
‘Who are we to say what natural is? Remember me dad with a drink in him? ‘‘Jesus must have been gay ’cos he hung around with twelve blokes and a prostitute’’!’
‘Don’t let your mother hear you saying that one!’
Five minutes later Maura had her breakfast and Joey and Carla were gone from the room. As she ate her scrambled eggs and smoked salmon she thought about Tommy Rifkind and their new relationship.
He had taken the death of his son badly, and Maura had understood that. Then out of the blue he had come to London and from courtesy Maura had wined and dined him. They had been nothing but friends until Tommy’s wife had died of cancer two and a half years ago. Maura had travelled to Liverpool with Garry for the funeral; it was good PR though her sympathy was genuine. Everyone knew who had topped Tommy’s boy and the fact they were seen together gave them all a measure of protection.
But the friendship had slowly turned from mutual respect to something different. Tommy was suddenly in London nearly every weekend and Maura, naturally, was his companion on some of his jaunts. It had been nearly two years before they bedded one another and that was due more to drink than anything else, but it had set the seal on things and they had started a relationship. Now she wondered where it was to go. Where it could go. As it stood she was the bigger fish of the two, being the front for the Ryan businesses. Though Tommy was a face in Liverpool, in London he was small-time in many respects. She was shrewd enough to know that an alliance between them would be far more beneficial to Tommy than it would be to her, a fact also pointed out by Garry on many occasions.
But Tommy’s rough love-making, so different from Terry’s, and innate honesty when he spoke of himself and his life, brought him closer to her than all the flowery words or caresses could ever do. She had heard through the grapevine that he had even elbowed his long-term girlfriend for her and she gave him credit for that. He had realised that, unlike a wife, she wouldn’t settle for anything on the side. Maura’s whole life depended on respect: the respect of her peers and especially the respect of her enemies. She wondered again what was to become of them both.
She put out her arm and stroked the pillow where his head had lain so many times. He helped ease the loneliness inside her. She still missed Terry even as she was making another life without him. Gradually his photos had been relegated to inferior positions around the house; in her bedroom he was now in the dressing-table drawer. It hurt her to see them smiling at one another, it hurt her even to think of him, so she just deleted him from her life and her mind. She was good at that, she had had to be.
From a child when her brother Anthony had been murdered in prison by their business rival Stavros she had learned how to put things on the back burner and lea
ve them there until they dried out and disappeared completely. It was how she had survived, and in truth she didn’t know any other way. Michael had taught her well, and how she wished he was here now with her. She still missed him so very much.
The phone rang and disturbed her reverie. It was a working day as usual and she took the call and put everything else from her mind. She still had businesses to run and couldn’t afford to lie abed daydreaming, even on such a landmark birthday.
As she stepped under the shower later she said under her breath, ‘Fuck fifty.’
Sarah put the finishing touches to her daughter’s birthday cake and hoped that Roy and Garry would successfully get her round to try and bury the hatchet. Sarah was eighty-seven now and felt her time was near. She wanted to make her peace with Maura if she could. Since Janine’s death Roy was like a different man; he went to Mass more often and had a quietness about him that made her feel more comfortable in his company. It was his idea for them finally to call a truce and try and build some bridges, though privately Sarah thought Isambard Kingdom Brunel would have trouble building a bridge as wide as the one needed now.
But if she made things up with Maura, her grandson might come back into her life as well. So she would try. She would try her hardest. Even though inside she still couldn’t stand the vicious bitch she’d given birth to.
Sarah said a Novena to Mary the Mother of God because of her unnatural thoughts. But she knew what was still in her heart even if no one else but God could see that far.
Roy and Benny were finishing breakfast. They shared a closeness that had always been there, but since Janine’s death Roy had found himself the needier of the two. He wanted his son round him now more than ever, wanted to try and calm him down even if he knew in his heart that he was fighting a lost cause.
‘All right, Dad, I have to get off for a few hours. I have an announcement to make today at Maura’s do.’
‘What’s that then?’
‘It’s a surprise. But a nice one.’
Roy closed his eyes before saying quietly, ‘You ain’t killed anyone, have you?’
Benny laughed.
‘For fuck’s sake, Dad, of course not. Anyone would think I was a right nutter if they listened to you!’
It was on the tip of his father’s tongue to say that he was and they both knew it. Roy looked away first.
Benny grabbed his father’s hand and said seriously, ‘You know what the doctor said. Take it easy, Dad.’
News of Roy’s breakdown after Janine’s death had reverberated throughout the criminal underworld and now he was a Ryan in name only. But no one disrespected him because he was still Maura’s brother and Benny’s father, and now Benny was taking over with Garry as undisputed Kings of the Underworld. Their combined lunacy was enough to set the pulses of the most hardened criminals racing because there was no reason to what they did. They took offence at anything and dealt out instant retribution without a second’s thought.
In short everyone was terrified of them, including their own teams. People in the firm and outside wondered how long Maura was going to be able to control them. Even she wondered it herself at times.
Roy knew only too well that his son was capable of causing trouble of cataclysmic proportions. It was just a matter of time. He would bring them all down then and this was what frightened Roy the most.
‘Tell me, son, what have you done now?’
It was the terminology that hurt Benny most. He looked wounded, his deep blue eyes innocent as a child’s.
‘I ain’t done nothing, Dad. Not a thing, as hard as that may be for you to believe.’
He left the house minutes later and Roy took one of his antidepressants as he always did when troubled. All the time his son was speaking, he had seen his dead wife’s face as she had implored him not to let Benny anywhere near the family business. The fact she had been right had preyed on his mind for so long he would be lost without all the worry and the fear.
Roy was his mother’s son all right. Even he realised that now. He had bred a lunatic, like his brother Michael before him had been a lunatic, and the knowledge was almost too much for him to bear.
Sheila and Lee were getting the children ready for school. Lee was going to drop them all off in his brand-new people carrier. They needed it. Five sons and a daughter were a handful for anyone, and Sheila had only just relented and got herself a mother’s help. The girl was young, pretty and willing in more ways than one. As she smiled at Lee over the heads of his two youngest sons he felt the urge to tell her to fuck off, but Sheila liked her and wouldn’t have a word said against her.
His wife had been different since Janine’s death. Terry’s murder had bothered her too but she’d always accepted that Maura might have trouble at her door. It had never occurred to her that they might be in danger too. Now she was harder, more protective of the children, and as much as he loved her Lee found it all very wearing. It had taken the birth of their fifth son Jerome to get her to come back home and even then she had only consented when he had found a house like a fortress.
But he had complied with her wishes because he loved her so very much and adored his children with a passion. Sheila had remained a bundle of nerves for a while but when Roy had finally fallen out of his shopping trolley it had been she who had visited him and helped him get back on his feet.
She had also become very close to Lee’s mother, and that bothered him, because he knew Sarah worked behind the scenes to try and make her children into what she wanted, as opposed to what they were.
Sheila really believed that the people-carrier had bullet-proof windows, and instead of this making him smile it made him sad. She was as paranoid as Roy now. She was also letting herself go, something he’d never thought would happen. After all the kids he had to expect a bit of a difference in her body, but she ate like a horse now and it was showing on her.
It was her attitude that bothered him most, though. She talked to him as if he was stupid and it was wearing him down. Twice he had been on the verge of telling her to shut her trap but had stopped himself in time. She had the power, and knew it, and used it. What had happened to his lovely little wife?
He knew his eldest son was starting to rebel under his mother’s ministrations and felt for the boy. He also knew that Gabriel wanted him to stick up for him but he couldn’t, not if he wanted to keep his wife and children by his side.
He would talk to Maura about it all. He had to get it off his chest and she was the best bet. Garry would just advise him to give Sheila a right-hander – though maybe he had a point. After all, they ran their empire through fear and Lee knew it was a great leveller. For today, though, he just did what was required and kept his mouth shut. What else could he do?
Tommy Rifkind was driving down the M1 at over a hundred miles an hour in his favourite from his fleet of flash cars – a metallic blue Rolls-Royce Corniche. He was looking forward to tonight. He was going to meet Maura’s mother for the first time and felt that was a real step forward. He knew he was meeting her because it was a surprise party and not because Maura had arranged it, but the fact Lee had invited him spoke volumes. He was now classed as officially part of her life and that was exactly what he wanted to be.
Joss Campion was sitting in the passenger seat looking nervous. He hated it when his boss wanted to drive himself because he thought Tommy was a crap driver and said so on many occasions.
‘Fucking slow down, willya?’
His Liverpool accent was even more pronounced with fear running through his body.
Tommy laughed.
‘Now remember, you, best behaviour round her mother’s. No drinking and slurping like you usually do – and no fucking swearing! She’s really religious by all accounts.’
‘You’ve said this fifty times already.’
Tommy laughed again.
‘You need telling, Joss, you know what you’re like. Remember how my wife used to carry on about you?’
Joss grinned and his f
ace looked far less frightening.
‘I miss Gina, don’t you?’
Tommy slowed the car to seventy-five and said sadly, ‘’Course I do. More than I ever thought possible. But she’s gone and I’m still here and life is for the living, mate.’
‘If you had the choice, Maura or Gina back, who would you choose?’
Tommy put his foot down again and answered with a shout. ‘Don’t ask such fucking stupid questions.’
He was annoyed and Joss knew he was. But they both knew the answer and Maura wasn’t in it.
Garry kissed his girlfriend Mary lustily and she kissed him back with all the fervour of a seventeen-year-old girl.
Garry was amazed at how much he liked her. From the first time he had seen her lap dancing in his club he had known he would possess her and had set out to do just that. Even her extreme youth had not put him off; in fact, it was a big part of the attraction.
From her blonde hair to her red-painted toenails she was the epitome of all he had hated in women previously, and yet it was this that most attracted him now. She was a slag and he knew she was a slag; she had been round the turf more times than Red Rum. It was the taming of her that appealed to him. Even when he gave her a clump she took it and didn’t turn on the tears. She was so desperate for him to love her that she was willing to put up with anything.
And he was obsessed with her: with her little breasts that she was desperate to have surgically enhanced, and with her limited intelligence. He couldn’t keep his hands off her yet he still wanted her to work. He knew she wanted him jealous enough to stop her having to dance five nights a week. She hated the pole dancing and she hated the lap dancing. It had been a means to an end and he knew he was the wallet on legs she’d always had in mind. Now it was common knowledge she was Garry’s bird no one wanted her to dance for them anyway.