The next thing he knew he had his hands round Micky's throat, had pinned him down on the floor and was yelling abuse that he'd never before heard himself utter. In the background he heard Gina screaming, pulling at his shoulders as Micky's face turned red, then blue, and his Adam's apple squashed like an overripe grape under Lenny's powerful thumbs.
Lenny knew he was about to choke Micky to death and yet he couldn't stop; Micky was the cause of all the trouble in everyone's lives and he assumed that whatever he wanted he could just take. Like he'd taken Terry on that job to Downey Wood. Like he'd taken his and Milo's share of the money. Like he'd taken a nice kid like Bella and basically made her his slave. Well, this was the end of the road for Micky Bryant. Someone had to put him away. And it might as well be me, Lenny thought as the last gasp of breath rattled in Micky's throat.
Then suddenly a a hard object jerked into Lenny's ribs and his grip around Micky's throat loosened. The next second, Micky was pushing a gun in his face. 'Get off me, you bastard,' croaked Micky breathlessly. 'You nearly choked the life out of me.'
''I meant to,' Lenny muttered as he rose to his feet.
'I thought you was in clink,' Micky rasped, keeping the hand gun aimed at Lenny's face while hauling himself up.
Lenny stepped in front of Gina, spreading out his arms as he stared ferociously at Micky. 'No, what you thought or rather hoped, was that I was dead like that poor bastard, Milo.'
'I never laid a finger on him,' Micky protested.
'Course you didn't,' Lenny sneered. 'You got someone else to do your dirty work for you.'
'How do you know that?' Micky gasped, coughing as he rubbed his throat.
'Word gets round quick in the jug and there was whole dossiers on Micky Bryant. You've carved up half the blokes in there for one reason or another. Someone's going to nab you if McNee doesn't get you first.'
Micky visibly paled at this. 'McNee is just a loser, anyway.'
Lenny had always suspected that Micky was heavily in debt to the notorious villain - big time. Now, as he stared into the depths of Micky's manic eyes, he saw another truth. 'I suppose, after putting the finger on Milo, you would've come after me too, if I wasn't sent down?'
Micky raised the gun. 'It ain't too late, is it?'
'Use that thing and it's the end of the line,' Lenny threatened calmly. 'I wrote everything down. It's all on paper, tucked nicely away in a deposit box with Old Bill's name on it, should anything should happen to me. Every last detail right back to the still. The Strattons, the Manor and the money. And what you did to Terry.'
Lenny watched his words slowly take effect. Micky's eyes sprang about in his head, a nutter if there ever was one, borderline crazy. Lenny could feel his legs trembling as the gun wavered up and down in Micky's hand. 'Get out,' he snarled jerking his head towards the street. 'Me and Gina won't grass on you. You are Ronnie's brother and Bella's husband. Family. And that counts with us. You've got one chance here, Micky. And this is it. You've had your chips if you pull that trigger. The cops will make mincemeat of you.'
Lenny braced himself. Micky was madder than the proverbial hatter. The shooter was waving everywhere. His real concern was Gina. He didn't care about himself. Perhaps he could throw himself on Micky before the bullet left the barrel?
Then suddenly, the door opened behind them. Two young kids stood there and Lenny closed his eyes. Christ, this could be a bloodbath. When he opened them, Micky was running and the young people just stood there with their mouths hanging open as he hurtled past them.
'Far out man,' the kid grinned as the car parked outside began to roar off.
'Not far enough if you ask me,' Lenny muttered, taking the boy's arm and guiding the couple back into the street. 'Forget what you've seen, right? It was just a misunderstanding.'
'You want us to hang around?' the boy said, looking up at Lenny with admiration.
Lenny grinned and shook his head. 'No, thanks, mate. We're closing now. The action's over for the day.'
After they'd gone, Lenny locked the door and turned to Gina who was holding onto the counter. 'I ... I can't believe what just happened,' she stammered, her usually strong voice very weak. 'Is it you, Lenny? My Lenny?'
'It's me,' he said softly, almost afraid to touch her. 'Sorry if I gave you a fright.'
Gina swayed and put her hand to her head. 'Jees, Lenny, Micky nearly put a bullet in you tonight.'
'He didn't have the balls.'
'Perhaps not, but you took a big chance.' She looked him up and down as if she had just realized what he was wearing. 'Don't tell me you're a bloody bus conductor?'
'No,' he said with a grin. 'I'm the driver.'
Lenny didn't know what would happen next. Either way, she hadn't immediately turfed him out. In Lenny's book, it was a definite result as he waited more nervous now than when Micky has stuck the shooter in his face.
But what he didn't expect was her laughter, her body quivering as she threw back her head and gave vent to the amusement she felt at either escaping death or discovering he was now a fully paid up member of the human race.
Lenny moved forward and caught her as she fell into his arms, and together they were laughing, hugging and kissing, until at last they realised they had an approving audience still outside the coffee bar window.
A year had gone by already, Ronnie reflected as he looked at the bunch of white roses. Tomorrow, Tuesday, was Joyce's anniversary. He'd bought the roses today and put them in the bowl in the sink to keep fresh. Meanwhile, he kept
