‘Meaning?’
‘You know what I mean, Annie. Don’t come the innocent with me. They could have sat her down at this table and forced her to write that note, then taken her off and done God knows what to her.’
‘You mean the Carter mob?’ said Annie.
‘Who the fuck else would I mean? Come on, admit it. It’s crossed my mind and I bet it’s crossed yours.’
He was right. But every time the suspicion of wrongdoing had entered her head, Annie had ruthlessly pushed it out again. She had to go on believing that Celia was somewhere sunning herself, safe and well.
‘Look, Darren,’ said Annie impatiently. ‘Fuck all this speculation. What good does it do us? We’ve got a place to run and it’s business as usual. We’re not going to have any more trouble, I’m going to get someone on the door from now on. No more open house.’
There was a lot to get straight, and Annie was glad of the distraction. She threw the front parlour windows wide to get rid of the musty smell in there. Then she got everyone to help her clear up. The furnishings were okay, old but of good quality. There was a big table to put the food and drinks on, and in the radiogram she discovered a stash of Connie Francis and Ruby Murray LPs. She started priming their regulars with the news that there would be a monthly party on offer. She had already made up her mind that any excess food from the parties would be distributed among the neighbours, to keep them onside. Then Billy turned up unannounced at the kitchen table one day, scaring her half to death. She made a mental note to ring Redmond Delaney without delay and get some muscle sent over for the door like she’d told Darren she would.
‘Hello, Billy love,’ she said, after she’d recovered herself. Fuck, why did he have to creep about like he did? Couldn’t he ring an effing bell or something?
‘Hello Annie,’ said Billy. His long face lit up at the sight of her. He sat there clutching his briefcase on his lap, his deerstalker pulled down over his eyes. Poor bastard, she thought. The word was that the cord had got wrapped around his neck when he was born and he’d been starved of oxygen. He couldn’t help being as he was, now could he?
So, despite the fact he’d given her a fright, she made him a cup of tea and plied him with biscuits. Celia had always made him welcome, and Annie was filling Celia’s shoes. She didn’t have Celia’s happy knack of chattering about nothing, however, so she soon made her excuses and was pleased to see him go. She got straight on the phone to Redmond. It was a call she’d been trying to avoid making, but Billy had done her a favour by making her see it was something she had to do.
‘Mr Delaney,’ she said respectfully. ‘I hope you’re well?’
Annie had heard Celia making calls like this, she knew the drill.
‘I’m very well,’ said Redmond. Cool as ice was Redmond. You wouldn’t find him in the parlours taking advantage of the facilities. Annie wondered if he ever did it at all. He’d probably put on rubber gloves first.
Annie proceeded to tell him about the monthly parties and that things had become a little more rough than usual lately, could he spare a man for the door?
‘Permanently?’ asked Redmond. She could hear that sharp brain of his ticking over, weighing up how much this would cost.
‘If possible,’ said Annie.
‘Are you going to pay him out of your funds?’ asked Redmond.
Bugger. That hadn’t been at all what she’d had in mind.
‘I thought you might help me out with that,’ she said smoothly. ‘There was a very unpleasant incident here not long ago. We pay already to make sure things like that don’t happen.’
There was a silence. Perhaps she’d overstepped the mark, thought Annie. But what the hell, it was bloody true.
‘Sometimes,’ said Redmond, ‘unpleasant incidents are difficult to prevent.’
Annie swallowed. Talking to Redmond, even at a distance, was like staring into the eyes of a cobra. You felt hypnotized.
‘I need your help here,’ said Annie. If he had a better nature, then she was going to try to appeal to it. ‘My Aunt Celia was always straight with you, wasn’t she? Paid up fair and square? Never gave you any trouble?’
‘That’s true,’ allowed Redmond.
‘I can’t afford to pay for a man on the door. You can. The takings will be well up from the monthly parties.’
‘You hope.’
‘They will.’
‘So you want us to stand the expense of the extra man.’
‘Yes, I do.’
Silence again. ‘No, take his wages out of the party profits. This isn’t a charitable institution.’
‘Mr Delaney.’
‘Yes, Miss Bailey?’
‘Seriously, I don’t want any more trouble here. You let us down before. Badly.’
This time the silence was deafening. Oh fuck, thought Annie.
‘I’ve got a man who’ll be good for the door,’ said Redmond at last. ‘I’ll send him over. But you pay his wages, Miss Bailey, not me.’
Well, thought Annie, you couldn’t win them all. She quickly dialled Kieron’s number.
‘Yep?’
‘Can I cry off Monday?’ asked Annie.
‘No, you fucking well cannot. Why?’
‘They’re burying Eddie Carter on Friday.’
‘I thought you’d fallen out with your family? Didn’t get in touch any more?’
‘I just don’t think I’ll be in the mood on Monday, that’s all.’
‘Ah, come on. I’ll cheer you up.’
Annie put the phone down while he was still protesting. A chill had settled over her with the news of Eddie’s death. She was Celia’s representative, standing in Celia’s shoes, and it had happened here in their normally peaceful little parlour. If Celia was here she would have sent a wreath at the very least, and she would have put in an appearance at the funeral to pay her respects. Annie knew she had to do exactly the same, although she dreaded it.
She wandered through to the front room and looked at the newly stocked drinks cabinet. She wished she could throw back a stiffener, but drink disgusted her and she hardly ever touched it. It reminded her of her mother. Fuck, she didn’t even smoke.
Dig deep, she thought. She’d told herself that all her life. When her Dad had left, when her mother was out of it and choking on vomit and she’d had to clear her throat out and turn her on her side after a bad drunken binge. Dig deep. When she’d had to face Max in a rage over what she’d done to Ruthie. Dig deep and stand alone. She’d lived by that rule all her life, and it gave her strength now. She fetched Brasso and rags from the kitchen and gave the ornaments on the front-room fireplace a polish. The first party was to be in two weeks. No time for slacking.
19
Jonjo was worried about Max. They were having a meet with all the boys at Queenie’s old place, as usual. They were upstairs in the unused back bedroom, all of them crammed in around the big table. As usual. But there was a difference these days. There was no Queenie coming up the stairs with trays of tea and cakes, laughing with the boys and sending her regards to their mothers. The place was stone-cold and their voices echoed through its empty rooms.
No wonder Max had pissed off to the stockbroker belt to live, thought Jonjo. Jonjo knew that Max slept here sometimes when he’d had a heavy day, but Jonjo wouldn’t stay a night here if you paid him in gold bits. He had a flat across town where he took all his birds. Fuck this place. They had been in the process of selling it when
