‘It’s a free country.’
Sippy laughed.
‘Watch Liz too. She is one of them girls who can’t or won’t be loyal. Whores can be like that, or they can be so loyal it would break your heart. Especially to their pimp. Just watch your back with her. Pippy is in with that Jesmond and he is bad news for women, especially white ones.’
Sippy realised then what he had said. Jon Jon’s mother was a brass and she was white, but he often forgot that and knew that from him Jon Jon would not take the words as an insult.
Jon Jon shrugged again, an exaggerated display.
‘Pippy don’t fucking scare me.’
Sippy laughed loudly.
‘No? Then he fucking should, because he scares me, man. You took what he had and he will go all out to teach you a lesson, Paulie Martin or no Paulie Martin.’
‘Let him. I like a challenge.’
They both laughed then because Sippy knew that the more faces Jon Jon took out, the bigger deal he would be. Their business was all about reputation. That was what earned you the big bucks and the loyalty.
Paulie and his wife were eating dinner. He watched her as she dished up. The table as always looked fantastic. The dinner service had cost him a small fortune, he had got it for her one Christmas and the expense had seemed worth it at the time just to see the look of joy on her face.
Things made Sylvia happy.
Nice things.
Tonight they had grilled steak with mushrooms, tomatoes and home-made thick-cut chips. There was also salad, corn on the cob dripping butter, and three other vegetables: broccoli and cauliflower in rich and creamy cheese sauce, and mangetout. There was enough here to feed a small army. The girls were at their friends’ so all this food was a waste really.
One plate was heaped much higher than the other. It made him smile because he knew that was her plate. She could eat for England, could Sylvia.
‘Got enough there, Sylv? Can’t have you dying of starvation, can we?’
He was joking and she knew it but it annoyed her just the same. Her name was Sylvia, it was a nice name and she wondered why he always had such trouble saying it.
‘I was Christened Sylvia, married as Sylvia. My name is Sylvia.’
It was the way she said it more than the words themselves. The sarcasm was almost palpable. It really annoyed him, as it was meant to.
Paulie sat back in his chair and surveyed her. As she shovelled food into herself he stared as if seeing his wife for the first time. Her slack mouth almost lunged at the fork. Joanie ate with more finesse than Sylvia. For all his wife’s airs and graces she ate like an animal. She glanced at him as he observed her and stopped eating, fork piled high with food halfway to her mouth.
‘What’s wrong now?’
It was spoken as if to a recalcitrant child.
‘You having a laugh, Sylvia?’
He always got more Cockney when she was playing the lady of the manor. He made himself laugh now as he said seriously, ‘Slow down. Anyone would think the food was going to be whipped away from you at any second.’
They stared at each other for long moments.
Sylvia was good at giving the evil eye. Once it had made him laugh, long ago when they had still pretended to like each other.
She replaced the fork on her plate and said conversationally, ‘Do you really want to know why I rush my food, Paul?’
He nodded. He had a feeling that there was something going on here he wasn’t aware of. There was a hidden agenda, he would lay money on it. It was in her voice, in every nuance of her words.
She took a deep breath as if she needed to summon up courage before saying quietly, ‘I rush my food so I don’t have to sit in your company any longer than I have to. I have not enjoyed your company for many years and we both know that, don’t we? I spend an inordinate amount of time at our country retreat so I don’t have to see you, smell you, or engage in conversation with you. In short, any time spent with you is under duress.’
She sat back in her seat triumphant at the effect her words were having.
Paulie didn’t answer for a while and then he said, ‘And the girls, do they feel the same?’
She smiled as she nodded.
‘What do you think, Paul? That they enjoy having a Cockney pimp for a father? What do you think they could possibly have in common with a man who sells women for his own personal gain?’
That was one in the eye for Paulie. He’d had no idea she even knew how he made his money - ‘wheeling and dealing’ was the way he’d always described it to her. But it seemed she had his measure after all.
He licked his lips before saying, ‘What’s brought all this on?’
She shrugged.
‘I have had enough of this pretence of a marriage, that’s all. I want out.’
He was quiet for a moment and she assumed he was devastated.
‘I suppose you want the houses and a settlement?’
‘It’s the least you can do. And the school fees, of course, plus the upkeep of the horses.’
Paulie shook his head, considering this.
‘I suppose that’s fair enough.’
Sylvia nodded vehemently. If she had known it was going to be this easy she would have done it years ago.
‘What about the villa in Marbella, Sylv? Sorry, Sylvia. Do you want that and all?’
She nodded again.
Now he was laughing. She sat very still, beginning to feel uneasy.
‘Don’t want fucking much, do you, Sylv? Do you know how many blowjobs my girls had to do to buy all this stuff?’
He shoved his plate violently across the table. It crashed to the floor and shattered into pieces. The noise was deafening as every piece of crockery fell after it when Paulie picked the table up and shoved it towards his wife.
He leaned towards her.
‘Do I look like a cunt to you?’
She didn’t answer him so he grabbed her face and forced her to look at him.
‘Answer me, you fat bitch, or I’ll wipe the floor with you.’
Sylvia shook her head.
‘I said, answer me!’
‘No . . . No, Paul. Please stop!’
Her panic and fear were evident now.
‘You look down your nose at me? Your old man was a fucking bank clerk! You think you’re some kind of queen? You’re nothing, just a self-satisfied snob. Well, you ain’t going to be one on my money, love. Whatever you think of my girls, at least they’re out there earning. And you can do the same in future because you, lady, are out on your fucking arse!’
He threw her from him and she grabbed at the table to stop herself from falling over. He was like a lunatic now and she watched in terror as he systematically tore the dining room apart, all the time shouting and screaming.
The police arrived twenty minutes later. She was cowering in the corner of the room, crying.
Yes, she would press charges. She also wanted a restraining order imposed as soon as possible, she sobbed.
It was only when she smiled complacently at him as they took him away that Paulie Martin realised he had played straight into her hands.
Chapter Ten
Kira and Tommy were covered in pink paint. When they looked at each other they laughed loudly.
‘Good job it’s washable or your mother would skin me alive!’
They surveyed the transformed bedroom and both agreed it looked wonderful. Every inch of space was pink except the ceiling and the floor. Even the skirting boards and the door were deep pink.
Tommy looked around him with pride. This was a dream he had had for so many years and now he was seeing it through to fruition. Something he had never thought to do. And best of all he had a little helper beside him, a pretty and hardworking helper he had all to himself. Something else he’d never thought would happen to him.
Kira sipped at her Diet Coke while he brushed out any runs or smudges on the paintwork. It was amateur work but neither of them could see that. To them it
was a room fit for Barbie.
‘Jump in the bath, Kira, and I’ll make us something to eat.’
She ran from the room happily. As he listened to the water running he was once more overwhelmed with sheer happiness.
Kira was in his bathroom.
She was such a big part of his life now he worried in case something happened to take her from him. But nothing would happen, he would make sure of that.
Since his father had moved in with Della, Tommy’s life had become what he had always wanted it to be: full of people and friends.
And little Kira, of course, she was the most important person of all.
As she sang and splashed he felt a serenity he had not felt since his mother was alive. He banged on the bathroom door and shouted, ‘A good scrub now, remember.’
She shouted back at him and he could hear the happiness in her voice that was mirrored in his own.
Paulie was like a bear with a sore arse. Joanie noticed it immediately. No one could do right for doing wrong. Even she was getting fed up with him which spoke volumes considering what she had put up with from him over the years.
‘Can’t you lot just try and fucking keep this place tidier? It smells like a whore’s fucking handbag!’
The girls all stared at him then at each other.
They were baffled. The place had never been so clean. He knew it and they all knew it. Joanie was now going under the nickname of Madam Domestos and she loved it. It lightened the atmosphere around the place and it also proved to the girls that she still had a sense of humour.
‘Can you come and look at this please, Paulie?’
Joanie had trouble keeping her voice under control. He followed her into the office, his face dark with anger and his mumbling and swearing audible to all.
Joanie shut the door and then said quietly, ‘Who the fuck has rattled your cage?’
He knew it was a fair question; inside he knew he was not being fair to anyone. But he was so angry he exploded.
‘Don’t you dare question me on my own premises!’
There was a warning in his voice, even the girls gathered around the door outside could hear that much.
But Joanie wasn’t having any of it. Who did he think he was? She was not having any of his posturing today, and she also had to prove to the listening girls that she could hold her end up whatever.
‘I’ll question you where I like, mate. You come in here with the manners of a fucking rent man and shout at my girls . . .’
‘Whose girls! Whose fucking girls, Joanie Brewer . . .’
He was livid, eyes bulging from his head now.
Joanie stared at him for long moments before she bellowed, ‘I run this fucking place, not you. And if you are going to undermine my authority then you can stick the job up your arse!’
‘I beg your pardon?’
He was in complete shock at her words.
‘You heard. I ain’t listening to this every time you have the hump. I ain’t no one’s fucking whipping boy, mate, especially not yours.’
He knew in his heart she was making a fair comment but he also knew everyone would be outside listening for his retort. If he backed down now they would walk all over him.
‘Suit yourself.’
Joanie laughed then.
‘Oh, I will, Paulie. Don’t you worry about that.’
Her reply angered him even more.
‘Where are you going, Joanie? Back to the pavement? ’
It was unfair and he knew it. More to the point, she knew it. She was blinking back tears as she shouted, ‘If I do, mate, I won’t be working for you so at least I’ll have that much to look forward to.’
She pushed past him and picked up her handbag. He grabbed her arm, contrite now. How had this got so out of hand? What was he doing, taking it out on her?
‘I’m sorry, Joanie. Honest to God, I am so sorry.’
She looked into his blue eyes and for once they didn’t move her in any way.
‘What’s the matter, Paulie? What’s happened?’
Her natural niceness was to the fore once more. She genuinely wanted to know what ailed him.
‘It’s Sylvia, she aimed me out the door.’
Joanie smiled. All this over a marital argument? It was laughable, surely he could see that much?
‘Is that all, Paulie! It won’t last. You and her have been together for yonks . . .’
He shook his head.
‘She got an injunction out and everything.’
Joanie was non-plussed. Now she didn’t know what to say to him. An injunction? What was Sylvia Martin thinking of?
‘Did you have a row then?’
He was sarcastic in his reply.
‘No, ’course not, we was tight me and Sylv. Of course we had a fucking row!’ His voice was rising once more. He was so childish sometimes she felt like she was talking with Jeanette when she couldn’t get her own way.
‘If you don’t calm yourself down you can just go home until you’re ready to talk properly to people. Now, politely, what was it about?’
He slumped into the office chair.
‘She wants out, wants the lot, and wants me to roll over like one of Pavlov’s dogs.’
Joanie poured them both a drink. Then, walking to the door, she opened it and stared at the girls gathered round as if she’d had no idea they had been standing there.
‘Did you lot want something?’
They all moved away quickly.
She winked at them before closing the door once more.
‘Thanks, Joanie. You think of everything, don’t you?’
She smiled, sorry to see him brought so low.
‘What about your kids?’
He shrugged.
‘What about them? They’re more her daughters than mine, she’s seen to that.’
He gulped at his drink.
‘I am so sorry, Paulie. Did you have any inkling this was coming?’
He shook his head.
‘’Course not. If I had I would have made arrangements. ’
She had never seen him like this before and a small part of her was jealous of a woman who could provoke such a reaction from him.
‘This injunction . . . you haven’t given her a clump, have you?’
He shook his head but he couldn’t look her in the eye, which spoke volumes as far as she was concerned.
‘Where are you staying?’
‘I slept at a mate’s last night.’
She knew that meant a bird’s and was annoyed he had not come to her. Yet why should he?
‘You could have come to us, you know.’
He was on his high horse again.
‘That would look good in the divorce if she finds out I was at yours and you a . . .’
He didn’t finish so she finished for him.
‘A brass?’
She laughed nastily.
‘Well, by the time the briefs have finished delving into your business interests I think that will be pretty low on a scale of one to ten, don’t you?’
She saw his face blanch, and realised that the thought had not occurred to him yet. Now he suddenly saw what was really going on. If Sylvia got a brief and they did start delving into his businesses . . . He felt the anger welling up once more.
The sneaky bitch!
He thought of all his bank accounts, all the offshore monies he could not account for legally. All his nefarious businesses that were in reality fronts for other even less legal practices from drug dealing to loan sharking. There was hardly a pie he didn’t have a finger in and Sylvia could blow the lot if she wanted to.
‘Oh, fuck, Joanie, what am I going to do?’
She shrugged.
‘That’s what people have briefs for, ain’t it? Advice. So get some. See where you stand.’
He nodded.
She poured him another drink then and placed a hand gently on his shoulder while he drank it. Eventually he slid his own hand over hers and smiled at her.
‘Sensible old Joanie, eh?’
‘It’s only money and you have loads of it. Give her a settlement or whatever they call it and get it over with sooner rather than later.’