Scarlet Women

‘I’m not sure I’d want to be driving her,’ he said.

‘Hey, it’s a job,’ said Annie.

‘Dunno.’ He folded his arms over his barrel of a chest.

‘Well, it’d be a damned shame if you didn’t take it, because someone is going to have to drive Dolly around. She don’t drive and she needs transport on tap, plus a minder, and that should be you.’

‘Huh,’ said Tony, still looking put out.

Annie rolled her eyes. ‘And someone is going to have to get their arse down to the Jaguar showroom this week and pick out a brand-new motor, because I’m not sure I can take any more earache off you about that fucking Rover.’

‘New, uh?’ asked Tony grudgingly.

‘Brand new. Any colour so long as it’s black.’

Annie saw Steve and Gary up in the office next. They sat there and looked at her expectantly, coolly.

‘Gary,’ said Annie, looked at the lanky, hardfaced blond. ‘You once said to me that you and Steve could take over the manor.’

‘Think you’ll find I actually threatened you with it,’ he said.

‘That’s right, you did. Didn’t want to take orders off the Yanks, ain’t that right?’

‘What’s this all about?’ asked Steve, sitting there like a block of stone, his dark eyes flat as they stared at her.

‘It’s about you and Gary,’ said Annie. ‘Running the Carter manor. Running Bow.’

‘And Limehouse and Battersea,’ said Gary.

‘Yeah, how’s that going?’

‘Going good.’

‘It’s no job for a woman, this game,’ said Steve. ‘Too dirty.’

Annie kept quiet about that. Knew she could do it, had proved she could do it, and didn’t need to prove it any more.

‘We got Derek,’ said Gary.

Annie looked at him. ‘And?’

‘He’s sorted.’

Annie nodded. She didn’t want to know what they’d done with Deaf Derek; it was enough to know that the problem had been attended to.

‘What about Charlie Foster?’ she asked with a faint shiver of revulsion. To think the horrible little creep had damn near raped her…

Gary looked at her with his cold blue eyes. Vicious, that was Gary, and his eyes told the whole story. He glanced down at his watch, back at her face. ‘No sweat. Being attended to…oh, just about… now.’

Across town in Bow there was another breaker’s yard, owned by a friend of a friend of the Carters. As the roaring semi-hush of the city night settled around it, things came to life in there. Suddenly there was activity. Machines working, men moving.

Charlie Foster was sitting in the driver’s seat of his elderly Ford. His hands were taped to the wheel. His body was tied in to the seat. No way out. If he tried, if he really stretched, he could reach the glove compartment with his foot, but not the passengerseat window, and that was what he wanted to do, kick out the glass.

And then what? And then…nothing. He slumped over the wheel, sweat running in rivulets down his face. He gave a roar of rage and terror and pulled wildly against the tape on the steering wheel once again. Slumped again.

No good. No fucking good at all.

He heard the machinery start to roar, and then the grab hit the top of the car like a ton weight.

‘Bastards!’ he yelled, spittle flying, and the grab’s talons broke the window beside his head, and the passenger side window caved in too, and the whole car lurched.

Then he was in the air. He turned his head and he could see them down in the yard, Carter boys. Watching. Waiting. Bastards.

Chapter 53

On Sunday, Annie had Tony drive her in the despised borrowed Rover over to the church.

‘Picked out a beauty,’ Tony told her excitedly about the new Jag he had ordered. ‘Black. Tan leather trim, walnut dashboard, she’s terrific.’

It tickled Annie to think of Dolly being driven around town by Tony. They’d either rip each other’s heads off or get on like wildfire, she wasn’t sure which.

Tony pulled into the churchyard and parked up. Annie got out, clutching a large assorted bouquet of fresh pink flowers and fern. It was windy today, but bright. Soon summer would give way to autumn. Tony followed, six paces back, as she walked across the rough-mown grass to Aretha’s grave.

Someone was there already.

A large figure, crouched beside it.

There was a patchwork of yellowish turf laid out on the grave. Soon the grass would bed in, start to grow. Soon there would be a fine big headstone. Annie would see to that if Chris was okay with it, and if Louella wasn’t too proud to allow it. For now, Aretha’s grave was unmarked.

‘Chris?’ she said gently, touching his shoulder.

The big man looked up. Tears were rolling down his face. He wiped at them, looked at her. He stood up. Looked past her to Tony and nodded. Tony nodded in return.

‘Wanted to come and see her,’ he said.

‘We’ll go,’ said Annie, placing her flowers beside his own offering on the grave. ‘We’ll come back later.’

‘No, I…’ Chris swallowed and ran a hand over his huge bald head. ‘I wanted to thank you, for all you did. She can rest easy now.’

‘She was one of the best friends I ever had,’ said Annie. ‘I’ll never forget her.’

Suddenly Chris broke down. ‘Why did this have to happen to her?’ he sobbed.

‘I don’t know, sweetheart, I really don’t,’ said Annie, feeling tears starting in her own eyes.

‘I’d like to kill that freak with my own bare hands,’ he muttered.

Annie nodded. Bobby Jo was banged up now; he was going to have a hard road to walk. No Krug or willing hostesses where he was going, that was for sure. That couldn’t give Chris much comfort, but it must give him some.

‘I’ll come back later,’ said Annie, and this time he let her walk away.

When she glanced back he was on his knees again, hunched over his wife’s grave.

The hot August sun was twinkling through the trees, throwing shadows and dancing shapes.

Annie blinked. There was Aretha, in hot pants, feather boa and Afghan coat, leaning over Chris.

Aretha looked up and her eyes met Annie’s. It’s okay, girlfriend. I’m just fine. Annie blinked again. Aretha was gone.

Shit, now I’m seeing things, thought Annie. But she felt oddly comforted.

‘Come on, Tone, let’s go,’ she said, and they started back to the car.

Ellie was walking toward them, clutching a bouquet of yellow roses and wearing a neat emerald-green skirt suit.

She looked good. There was a new spring in her step, a new aura about her. Things had changed. She wasn’t a brass any more, catering to the chubby chasers. She wasn’t Dolly’s cleaner. She wasn’t Kath’s cleaner, either—