The only thing he had supposedly done wrong was to fall for a tall blond boy called Casper. And after a few fraught years, Maeve’s tantrums, and Georgio’s and Stephen’s jibes, he had broken up with the boy. Donna knew that Georgio and Maeve, indeed all the family, had felt it was a phase he was going through, and that some red-blooded female would come along and show him the error of his ways. Only Donna had accepted him for what he was, and consequently they had become very close.
‘I think a year or two in Greece would do you the world of good,’ she said now. ‘Does Casper still run the bar in Lindos?’
‘He’s thinking of buying another one now,’ Mario said happily. ‘In a little place called Afando, near Falaraki. So I can work for Casper or Uncle Costas really. Work’s not the problem.’
Maeve pursed her lips and changed the subject.
‘What are you doing on Sunday, Donna? I thought maybe the two of you might like to come over for dinner.’
Donna shook her head sadly. ‘Sorry, Maeve, I’m away at the weekend. I’m going to Scotland.’
Maeve’s eyebrows were raised practically off her forehead.
‘Scotland! What on earth are you going to do up there?’
Donna laughed gently. ‘Anyone would think I was going to the Himalayas! I have to sort out a bit of business for Georgio that’s all. It’s complicated, so I won’t bore you with it. But I’m sure Dolly would like to come to you for dinner.’
‘Please, Maeve. After a weekend here on me Jack Jones, I’ll be ready for a bit of jawing.’
‘I’ll send this fellow here to pick you up about one then,’ Maeve decided. ‘OK? We don’t eat till late on a Sunday.’
Dolly nodded. ‘I’ll make a nice dessert then. That can be my contribution.’
‘Make that cake I like, Death by Chocolate.’ Mario’s voice was filled with longing.
Maeve shook her head. ‘He eats like a fecking horse and never a spare bit of flesh on him. It’d tear the heart out of you to watch this one eat!’
Mario grinned and in a perfect parody of her voice said: ‘And it’d tear the ears off you to listen to this one rawmaishing all day!’
Everyone laughed and Donna realised that Mario had been a blind without her realising it. She knew Maeve and Dolly wanted the lowdown on why she was going to Scotland, and thanks to Mario she didn’t have to go through the third degree. It occurred to her that this business with Georgio was going to be even harder than she had anticipated, and God Himself knew, she was already more than aware of how hard it was. On top of everything else she now had to try and get out and about without the two older women growing suspicious about her movements. Once more the sheer enormity of what she was doing almost crushed her under its great weight.
Only Mario noticed how quiet and abstracted she had become, because Dolly and Maeve were now discussing the merits of dishwashers and microwaves. His heart went out to her. She looked so small, so alone, and for some reason, absolutely terrified.
Donna was in the car lot offices going through the paperwork. Carol was sitting opposite her, her face settled into a tight mask of displeasure.
‘The thing is, Carol,’ Donna was explaining, ‘I did the credit checks on Masters myself. He’s blacklisted. I told Davey that. Now I see he has become the proud owner of a Mercedes Sports and is buying it through JCY finance. A finance company I seem to keep coming across, though I can’t find it in the Yellow Pages.’
Carol took a deep puff on her Rothman’s and grinned.
‘You wouldn’t find them there, love. JCY is a subsidiary of a company called Talkto. It’s a private loan company we use for people who can’t get credit because they’ve been made bankrupt or whatever, but we know on good authority they’re OK for the dosh. It’s simple.’
Donna had trouble hiding the shock she was feeling at being told Talkto had a subsidiary which was in effect a loan company. Or loan shark would probably be a better term, because you didn’t borrow large amounts of money without a guarantee that it would be paid back, even she had learnt that much.
‘So what happens if Masters can’t pay for some reason? ’
Carol licked her lips. ‘Don’t worry, he’ll pay. Masters is an Essex Man, love. He has a big house, a big car, a good lifestyle and no real employment. That’s all I can tell you. He’s always bought his motors from us, and he always will. It’s as simple as that. Every now and again he does us a right favour and we return it. Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?’
Donna pushed back her heavy chestnut hair and shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Carol, but I can’t leave it. I want to know what Masters’s favours are and why we’re so grateful.’
Carol’s face became hard, and for a few seconds Donna was afraid of her. Carol Jackson was a known hard woman, Donna had always been aware of that. Even the police would think twice before going round to her house. She was like a man in that respect. Had the same attitude. She was a fighter, a physical fist-fighter. Donna, though, stood her ground. The mention of Talkto guaranteed that.
‘Listen to me, Donna, and listen fucking good! There’s some things that you don’t need to know about. And Georgio don’t need to know about, neither. Me and Davey ran this place perfectly adequately before Georgio was banged up. Now I will hold me hand up to a bit of skulduggery here and there, but that is down to Davey and me. It has nothing to do with you or your old man. Do I make myself clear?
‘Over the years Georgio has picked up his money, and been bloody glad of it at times and all, when it’s bailed him out of difficult situations. He never, ever questioned our methods of getting it. In nine years we ain’t never been tucked up once by Masters, or any of the others who use our finance company. So please, leave it at that.’
Donna felt the sheer weight of Carol Jackson’s anger. Even her body language was aggressive. Her face was a tight mask, her arms and torso stiff with indignation. Suddenly, Donna wished she had never got involved in the car firm. It had spelt trouble from the first.
‘Have the insurance company been in touch yet about the payout for the cars?’
Carol relaxed. Donna was having the good sense to change the subject; she could afford to be magnanimous.
‘Yes, actually they have. Their assessor is coming again on Tuesday. This kind of thing can take a year or two to sort out. They take your money for the insurance, but they don’t like giving it back.’
Donna stood up silently, her face drawn and white.
‘Answer me one question, Carol, and I promise I’ll never ask you anything about JCY again. How long have you been using it as a finance company?’
Carol wiped her heavily jewelled hand across her forehead. ‘Six and a half years to be exact. Georgio introduced us to it, as it goes. All dealers use different finance companies. You know your trouble, Donna? You’re too naive for this kind of caper. Well, let me tell you one last thing. To survive as long as we have in this business, you need an edge. JCY is that edge for us. You only have to drive through Leigh-on-Sea, Romford, Manor Park, Ilford, Dagenham, Chelmsford, fucking Barking, in fact anywhere in the south-east, and you will see car lot after car lot. Well, in competition that tough, you need to be able to offer that bit more. JCY is our little bit more. Be grateful to it. It bailed your old man out of the shit more than once.’
Donna sat down again heavily and Carol took pity on the woman in front of her because she knew Donna was not really ready for the big bad world as everyone else knew it. Georgio had cushioned her from so much. Now she was finding it all out, the hard way. Carol’s voice was softer as she said: ‘Listen, Donna love. You’ve done a great job with everything, the sites, here. You know, you’ve been a brick. But you must learn to accept a bit of ducking and diving as the norm. We all do. Even the Old Bill have their perks, love. If we couldn’t offer JCY we’d be like every other little tinpot car dealer. There’s a whacking great recession out in the real world, Donna, and everyone has to do their little bit to ensure they don’t go under. Whether you’
re a bigwig or a small concern.
‘How many little builders are doing work cash in hand, no VAT, to keep a roof over their kids’ heads? How many people are torching their motors to get a few grand cash back? I’ll tell you how many Donna - hundreds. Thousands even. It’s part and parcel of the world we live in. It’s called survival. What we’re doing ain’t even illegal really. They sign a contract, they honour it. That’s the long and the short of it all. They’ve been bankrupted in the courts yet they’d put a bit away for a rainy day. In their wife’s name, their kids’ names, or their mother’s.
‘It’s why you found out you owned your house. It’s called covering your own arse. If we put the paperwork through the correct channels, the bailiffs would be battering their doors down. We just do them a favour, that’s all.’
Donna stood up and picked up her handbag.
‘Fair enough, Carol, I understand what you’re telling me. OK, I’ll never mention it again. I’m away for the weekend, so I won’t see you till next week sometime.’
‘That suits me fine. Do you good to get away, have a break. It’s what you need.’
Donna gave her a tight strained smile, and left the offices.
On her way to the car she felt crushed by worry. Since Georgio had been sentenced, life had become one big chore. Her euphoria at the thought of him coming home, no matter what, had evaporated drastically in the full knowledge of what she was supposed to do to achieve that end. She now knew that Talkto was something Georgio had set up with Stephen as a blind. Talkto was probably the main company now that telephone sales and sex had become a part of everyday life. JCY was probably the beginning of Stephen’s little empire in Soho.
She sat in her car wondering what she should do. Should she ignore what she had found out? That seemed the most viable solution. She had lived twenty years without knowing anything and at this moment she yearned once more for her days of ignorance. The worst thought of all was that Georgio was really bent, really had been involved in a lot of things she could not even have guessed at.
She saw Carol watching her through the office window and turned the key in the ignition. Carol could cope with everything; in fact, knowing Carol, she was probably the real brains in her marriage. Donna knew instinctively that Davey Jackson would think long and hard before doing anything without her knowledge, and Donna envied Carol for that. Davey afforded her the respect she deserved.
Had Georgio ever done that for her? The question once asked frightened her, because she already knew the answer, had always known the answer, deep inside.
Well, she would show him. She would do what he asked. It could only make them closer in the long run. It saddened her that she had to break the law to prove to herself and her husband that she was worthy of him, that she would do anything for him, no matter what. Yet she was aware that it was making her more determined to do what he asked. For the first time, she really was on top where Georgio Brunos was concerned. This fact staggered her even as it frightened the life’s blood in her veins and turned it to ice water. Finally she pulled out on to the road, Carol Jackson’s angry countenance fresh in her mind. She would have to toughen herself up, and do it soon. Before the real work started. As she drove home she decided to take a leaf out of Carol’s book.
Whatever Davey was up to she made a point of being there with him, organising and taking an active part. Well, Donna decided, she would do the same.
Happier in herself, she drove home with a lighter heart.
The course was set, she was into this already, up to her neck in fact. A police car drove past her on the A13 and she smiled sadly. Would the time ever come again when a police car would be seen by her as a blessing? Would she once again feel safer because it was on the road with her? Or would she become like Georgio, and see the police as the enemy? Would she live her future life looking over her shoulder?
Once Georgio was out, they would in effect become outlaws. Her little world would be blown open; they would never return to England again. Suddenly the Essex countryside looked very beautiful, the fields laid out in neat squares, the farmhouses of red brick picturesque and homely. They would be forced to live abroad, and it would be in extreme heat if she knew Georgio. He loved the sun, always had. It occurred to her that she was giving up an awful lot to have her husband back with her once again, but it was worth it. Even leaving her life here was worth it; anything was worth Georgio’s being beside her once more. All she had found out about him was as nothing compared with her love for him. Her need of him. Donna pushed Dolly and Maeve and Pa Brunos from her mind, because once they left England, she and Georgio would be leaving them also.
As she approached her house, she stopped in the village and went into Carpenter’s, the estate agents. Georgio had asked her to put the house up for sale, as they would need as much money as possible. Once they were out of the country, their assets would be frozen. It would become difficult to gather funds together. She was preparing to lose her adopted family, Dolly and her lovely home, yet Donna didn’t falter as she stepped into the estate agents.
This was for Georgio and for herself.
They would be together for ever. That was what she had to keep telling herself, no matter how hard any of it became. She shook herself mentally, reminding herself that her husband was sitting in a maximum security prison being tormented by a man who would terrify Jack the Ripper.
Donna allowed herself a small feeling of satisfaction as she spoke to the estate agent; she was getting good at lying. Georgio would be proud of her.
‘What is the joke, madam?’ The handsome young man before her was looking at her quizzically.
‘Oh, nothing you would understand.’
She made her goodbyes and left, wondering what Dolly’s reaction to the sale of the house would be. After all, it was her home as well.
Sidney Carpenter grinned in satisfaction at his boss.
‘You know who that was, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, Georgio Brunos’s little wife. So the house is going on the market now, eh? She must be feeling the pinch with her lord and master banged up in Parkhurst. Never liked him myself, he was an arsehole. All the money he earned and still he argued the toss over getting the commission down on any of his properties.’
Peter Downs walked into his small office and picked up the telephone. He dialled the local Town Hall and asked for Councillor Robertson.
Harry Robertson had just left a planning meeting and was feeling great. He had voted against another large superstore car park, knowing the paving specialist would up the ante on his next approach to him. He picked up the telephone with the air of a man who was happy with himself, happy with life.
‘Hello, Harry Robertson here.’
He never called himself ‘Councillor’, preferring to be known as the plain man’s friend. No titles for Harry, not from the electorate anyway.
‘Councillor Robertson, how are you?’
Harry frowned. ‘Hello, Peter. Long time no see, old chum.’ Harry could sense the other man smiling down the phone. Downs always smiled, even when he was imparting bad news.
‘I had a visitor today, Georgio Brunos’s wife actually,’ the voice said excitedly. ‘She’s put her house on the market. Quick sale by all accounts.’
Harry knew he had to answer, but he was having trouble breathing.
‘Really, Peter? Now what made you think that would be of any interest to me?’
Peter laughed gently. ‘Well, knowing how close you all were, I thought you might like to be told about it. I organised the sale of all the properties Georgio built, if you remember rightly. I know you always had a penchant for Georgio’s place, thought you might have been interested, that’s all. It’s a lovely property - swimming pool, tennis court, and it’s going for a song really - three-quarters of a million in fact. She seems in a hurry to get out. Maybe the upkeep is getting too much, eh?’
Harry decided he had humoured Peter long enough and now was the time for him to act the councillor. Peter was
a tad too disrespectful for Harry’s liking.
‘Look, Downs, fascinating as all this is, I really have to go now. I have a planning meeting scheduled for two-fifteen and I want to grab a bite of lunch.’
‘Don’t worry, old boy, I know what you’re like when you want to grab something. Give my regards to Bunty, won’t you?’
Harry found himself holding a dead telephone and cursed under his breath. Downs was getting too big for his boots, but this phone call had proved something to him. Georgio Brunos and all his dealings with him were not going to go away.
Harry had made a point of distancing himself from Georgio on the night he was arrested, feigning shock and horror and any other emotion that would put him in a good light with councillors and contractors. But he was in over his head with Georgio and he knew it, and now the phone call from Peter Downs was confirming his worst suspicions. Georgio was selling up. Donna wouldn’t shit unless Georgio gave her permission. It was Georgio who wanted shot of the property. Maybe money was tight. That was one reason for a quick sale.
But the house aside, Georgio knew an awful lot about Harry’s business dealings and other activities . . . The man began to feel extremely worried. He regretted dumping Georgio and Donna so quickly. He should have made a point of standing by her - in private, of course. It wouldn’t do to be seen openly consorting with the wife of a local villain, and that’s how Georgio had come over in the trial. If he hadn’t been so greedy they would have been raking it in by now.
Harry groaned. Raking it in was an understatement. They would have been worth small fortunes, and neither he nor Georgio was exactly short of a few bob.
Harry’s secretary Sally walked into the room at that moment, swinging her hips and smirking delightedly, and for the first time ever, Harry didn’t register a pretty, eager face.