‘Pretty little thing, isn’t she? I must say, Alf, you know how to pick your women.’
Alfie stood up, eyes firmly fixed on Charlie who walked slowly towards him. Alfie was aware that Vaughn, as well as the other men who worked for him, had been blindsided by Charlie’s attack.
‘Leave her alone, Charlie. I don’t know what this is about, but I do know your beef isn’t with her.’
Charlie Eton grinned again, his fat cheeks folding up in layers. ‘You’re right, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to cop a feel.’ Still holding the machete in one hand, Charlie’s other hand went under the woman’s skirt and between her legs. She shuddered in disgust, tears beginning to roll down her face as Charlie’s lardy fingers pulled and grabbed at her knickers.
Sliding his fingers inside her, a lecherous smirk on his face, he groaned in pleasure.
‘Mmmmm, that’s right baby, big daddy’s here. Does that feel good, sweetheart?’
Alfie’s face screwed up in rage. ‘For God’s sake, Charlie, let her go! Whatever it is you want, I’ll give it you. Just name it.’
‘Now that is a big promise, Alfie.’
Alfie, feeling desperate but trying to sound calm, said, ‘Please, Charlie. I’m begging you, just leave her alone. Come on, mate, what do you say?’ Getting no response, Alfie brought down his voice to a warm murmur. ‘Charlie. Charlie, for me … just let her go … as a favour, to me … you know what I’m talking about.’
A tiny flicker of acknowledgement passed over Charlie’s face for the briefest moment before it disappeared again. He considered the girl for a second, sneering, then pushed her forcefully aside, sending her flying into the bar and causing her to hit her head on the sharp corner.
Ignoring the blood now pouring from the girl’s head, Charlie stared hard at Alfie. A small vein pulsated on his temples. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I do know that you’re getting soft and maybe that’s why you think it’s okay to run this club right underneath my nose. You know me, I don’t like anyone taking away my business, so I thought I’d come and pay you a visit. Aren’t you going to offer me a drink, Alf?’
In the silence of the club, Alfie, feeling the pressure beginning to mount and knowing he had to play the game before someone got really hurt, walked behind the bar, his eyes still on Charlie, and grabbed a whiskey bottle off one of the silver shelves.
He unscrewed the top and poured a large measure into one of the glasses before walking back across to Charlie, offering him the drink as he struggled to control his trembling hands. ‘What are you on about? I’m not taking your business. We haven’t got the same clientele, and we certainly haven’t got the same kind of girls as you. I’d say yours were rather specialised, wouldn’t you?’
Knocking the whiskey back in one, Charlie winced as the burn of the drink reached the back of his throat. ‘You must be doing well if you can serve this stuff, which goes back to my point really. There isn’t room for two of us. Times are hard, it’s not like it used to be, so the way I see it is, I was here first.’
Fighting his sense of alarm, Alfie tried to play it down. ‘Come off it, Charlie.’
Charlie narrowed his eyes, giving Alfie a cold stare. ‘No, you come off it. You and I go back a long way, Alf, and that means something, so I’m going to do something I wouldn’t normally do; I’m going to give you a choice. You either shut this place down … or you work for me.’
Amazed, and knowing this was the last thing he needed to deal with, Alfie cut in. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
Glancing around, Charlie smiled. ‘If you let me finish, Alf, then you might understand. The fact is that even I can see it’d be a shame to see this place closed down. I mean it’s got a bit of class; you and Vaughnie have done a good job with it. So, I reckon – and this is only because I like you, Alf – that if you kept this place open and do what you gentlemen do best, then we could split the profits, say seventy-thirty to me, then everyone’s laughing. Well, I will be anyway.’
Alfie spoke bitterly through gritted teeth, his head beginning to pound. ‘You’re having a bubble. I would never give you a penny.’
Straight-faced, Charlie lowered his voice, his tone toxic. ‘That’s where you’re wrong. I’m afraid, Alf, whether you like it or not, you’ve got a decision to make … Let me know as soon as possible what you decide. The offer won’t be on the table for long.’
‘And if I don’t?’
‘You’ve known me long enough to realise that wouldn’t be a good idea.’ Then without warning, Charlie purposefully dropped the empty glass he was holding onto the floor, shattering it into tiny fragments before inexplicably leaning forward to give Alfie a kiss on the cheek. ‘It’s good to see you, Alf, it really is. Next time we shouldn’t leave it so long.’ And with that Charlie turned and left, and as Alfie watched, stressed and tense, his mind wandered to the anonymous letters and a shadow of fear crossed his face.
Five minutes later, Alfie was running down Frith Street, pushing past a large crowd of Chinese tourists who were busily taking photos of the outside of Ronnie Scott’s jazz club with their iPhones.
Catching up to Charlie’s leisurely stroll, Alfie breathlessly blurted out his words. ‘Charlie, hold up. Wait! I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.’
Surrounded by his men, and looking surprised, Charlie turned around, beads of sweat pricking at his forehead, his overweight body heaving from the exertion.
‘I’ve already told you what the deal is, Alf, it’s non-negotiable. I’m not going to change my mind, but of course if you’ve already made a decision and you know what’s good for you, then I’m all ears.’
Turning pale, Alfie shook his head. ‘It’s not about that.’
Charlie shrugged his shoulders, the weight of his body making it look like a strain. ‘Then what?’
Glancing at Charlie’s men, Alfie stepped closer in, not wanting anyone but Charlie to hear. He spoke in what was almost a whisper. ‘Have you got them? Have you got them as well?’
Unable to fully turn his head to look at Alfie due to how close he was, Charlie, clearly curious whispered back, ‘Got what, Alf?’
‘You know: Have you got them?’
There was a long pause from Charlie before he said, ‘Are you asking what I think you’re asking? You want some young, fresh meat?’
Charlie’s words were like an electric shock to Alfie. He jumped back, staring at him in horror. ‘Jesus Christ, no! Who do you think I am? You know I’m not into that shit.’
Chuckling, Charlie spoke leeringly as he licked his lips. ‘Things change. People change. Tastes change.’
Wiping his face almost as if he could wipe the strain away, Alfie snapped, ‘Well not my tastes, and certainly not for that.’
Stepping back to let a kid on a bicycle go past, Charlie laughed, though his expression showed interest. ‘Then what are you talking about?’
‘I just … I just …’ With his hands in his jacket pockets, Alfie stopped, nervously curling his fingers around one of the anonymous letters he’d received last week. ‘I just … well I just wanted to know if you’d got them as well. If he’d sent …’
‘Got what, Alf? Sent what? For God’s sake, you aren’t making any sense.’
Retreating and feeling overwhelmed, Alfie, unable to bring himself to say what he wanted to, shook his head. ‘You know what, it doesn’t matter.’
Charlie stared at Alfie as he backed away. ‘Are you okay? You don’t look so good. In fact, mate, you look terrible.’
Feeling his heart race, Alfie shrugged. His voice was small. Tight. Strained. ‘I’m fine. Are you? Are you fine?’
‘Well I’m certainly not acting weird, if that’s what you mean.’
Almost in tears, Alfie gave the tiniest of headshakes. ‘You know it’s not, Charlie, but you know exactly what I’m talking about. You know why I’m asking if you’re okay.’
Again, another flicker of acknowledgement crossed Charlie’s face and again, it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Then matching Alfie’s small, strained voice, Charlie mimicked, ‘No, Alf, I don’t know. I have no idea what you’re talking about, and if you want my advice, I’d lay off whatever it is you’re sticking up your nose. I’ll see you around … Oh, and make sure you come to that decision soon.’
As Charlie quickly turned around, feeling a stab of anxiety, he knew exactly what Alfie Jennings had been talking about.
At the same time as Alfie Jennings was heading back to his club, Franny was on the other side of town. Panicked, she hurried along the deserted street that ran parallel to King Henry’s Dock in Woolwich, checking behind her every few yards as she made a right turn into Ruston Road.
As she crossed a small bit of wasteland, a loud rustling noise coming from near the derelict warehouse startled her. Her chest went tight, and her breathing became shallow as she nervously took a step back, crouching down behind a large discarded oil drum and feeling the chill of the wind coming from off the river Thames.
Hearing the noise again, Franny tried to slow down her breathing, desperate to stop panic overwhelming her. She pushed herself further against the rusty oil drum, not moving for fear of being seen by whoever it was. She stayed crouching for a moment, listening carefully. There it was, and it seemed like it was getting nearer.
Trembling and bracing herself, she slowly peered around the drum, still trying to keep herself as far back as she could, but suddenly she let out a long sigh of relief as a brown, mangey cat rummaged in a pile of rubbish.
Standing up, relieved but annoyed with herself at how on edge she was, Franny felt her phone vibrate. Quickly pulling it out of the pocket of her beige suede jacket, she saw it was Alfie. She ignored it, but it rang again … And again. Deciding it was better to take the call, Franny took a deep breath, answering as casually as she could.
‘Hey, Alfie! You okay? How’s it going?’
‘How many frigging times does it take for you to answer?’
Sensing the irritation in his voice, Franny held her own temper and kept her tone as light as possible. She trilled at him. ‘Sorry, babe, I didn’t hear it. Anyway, what’s up?’
‘Where are you?’
Absentmindedly, Franny spun around, staring at the small new-build block of flats in front of her. She could hear the tension coming into her own voice. ‘Me? Where am I?’
‘Well who else do you thinking I’m talking to?’
‘I’m … I’m …’
On the other end of the line, Alfie impatiently cut in. ‘Look, it don’t matter. Just get yourself down to the club straightaway. We’ve had a bit of trouble. How long will you be anyway?’
Awkwardly, Franny said, ‘The thing is, Alf, I’m a bit busy right now. I mean, do you really need me? Can’t you and Vaughn handle whatever it is?’
There was a long pause and Franny could hear Alfie’s breathing down the phone as he seethed. Eventually he spoke.
‘Listen to me, Fran, I ain’t in the mood for this, so whatever the hell it is that you’re doing at this time of night: having a bath, painting your toenails, watching a bit of Netflix … I. Don’t. Care. Because all I care about is you getting yourself down here asap. Understand?’
‘Alfie, like I say …’
Franny frowned at her phone as Alfie cut off the call. Sighing, she glanced at the time. It was just gone one-thirty in the morning. The night-time traffic in London was almost as bad as it was during the day, so she knew it’d take her at least an hour and a half to get back to Soho, and by that time, she had no doubt Alfie would be gunning for her, and that was even before Vaughn got involved. As she saw it, it would be pointless even trying to rush back and pretend she’d just been in the bath. And okay, when she did finally get there, Alfie would have a hundred and one questions for her. Still, what else could she do? She’d just have to man up and face that when she saw him, but for now, she figured she might as well stay and do what she was here to do, because after all, she was already in trouble. Big trouble.
With her mind made up, Franny defiantly turned off her phone, shoving it back into her pocket as she headed for the row of maisonettes across the road. She tried to push the thought of Alfie, and the guilt, from her mind.
5
Realising she’d forgotten to bring the key, Franny pressed the silver buzzer on the black wooden door, checking over her shoulder nervously. Getting no answer and not wanting to stand there longer than she had to, Franny pressed again agitatedly, holding down the buzzer this time as she stared directly at the doorbell camera. A second later, she heard the click of the lock and she hurried into the communal entrance where another door just in front of her sprung open, taking her into a private stairwell that led up into a bright, spacious flat overlooking the Thames.
Bree Dwyer stood smiling at Franny. ‘Thank you for coming.’
Forcing down her irritation, knowing that a lot of it was caused by her own guilt, something her father had always tried to teach her not to feel, Franny smiled as she looked back at Bree. ‘No problem, it was just a bit difficult to get away. I’m not in the best of moods because Alfie …’
Bree cut in, concern etched across her face. ‘Is he okay?’
Franny nodded as she took off her jacket at the same time as noticing how much weight Bree was losing. ‘He’s fine, just under a bit of pressure, like we all are. You know how it is.’
Bree’s big blue eyes widened. ‘So, what’s wrong with him?’
With her irritation returning, Franny, not wanting to be reminded of Alfie, snapped, ‘I said he’s fine. Anyway, I’m not here to talk about him, I’m here to see you, and of course …’ Franny trailed off and turned around, walking across to the pink cot in the corner of the room. She bent over the hand-carved bar rails. ‘… And of course, this little one.’
Behind Franny, Bree ran her hand through her long blonde hair as she rolled her eyes. She spoke wearily. ‘She’s only just got to sleep, Fran. Leave her, will you?’
Ignoring Bree, Franny scooped the baby into her arms, bringing her in to her chest, stroking her silky mass of hair. ‘Don’t be stupid, she’s fine; she can sleep anytime.’
‘You don’t have to snap. I was only saying.’
Rubbing her head, knowing that she shouldn’t really take how she was feeling out on Bree, Franny tried to sound warmer. ‘Then don’t make it difficult for me to see her every time I come here, because unfortunately for me, I can only get away at certain times. You’re not looking so good by the way. I hope you’re looking after yourself. You can’t get ill. What would happen to Mia if you did?’
Bree gave a tight smile as she gathered up Mia’s cuddly toys from the floor. ‘Like I said before, I’m eating fine, but maybe if I was able to get out now and then, get some sunshine, perhaps I’d feel better. I feel like a prisoner here, Fran. It feels like I’m back in my old life.’
Triggered again, Franny’s hostility returned as she stared at Bree, seeing the dark rings underneath her eyes. The old life that Bree was referring to was with her ex-husband, Johnny, who along with his mother, Ma Dwyer, had abused Bree and kept her a virtual slave. And it’d been when she was still married to him, and on one of the few occasions he had let Bree out, that Bree had bumped into Alfie after not seeing him since she was a teenager.
Though what happened next was something that none of them could’ve predicted. Alfie believed that Franny had left him and stolen his and Vaughn’s money, and wasn’t coming back, and Bree was desperate for someone to take care of her. Alfie and Bree had quickly got together, wanting each other to help heal their broken hearts.
And of course, it had been a shock. A real shock when she had finally returned to Essex to explain the truth to Alfie about what had really happened with his money, to find out that he had already set up with Bree. It had felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. Hurting her more than she cared to admit. So she had done what she always did when something hurt her; she had put up her defenses, coming across as cold and unfeeling. And she was good at doing that. What she wasn’t good at was feeling, and especially feeling hurt. But being numb to pain was just how she liked it, and that way it was easier for her to forgive Alfie for breaking her heart.
Surprisingly, amid the mess of it all, her and Bree’s friendship had blossomed and when Bree had discovered she was pregnant, more than likely with Alfie’s baby – though there was a possibility it was Johnny’s – Bree had been somewhere between happy and scared.
Bree had told her that she wanted the baby but hadn’t wanted the lifestyle that came with Alfie, and she of all people had understood that, because even though she’d been born into this life of crime, there were times, many times, that she wished she could get away herself.
Her heart had gone out to Bree, and of course she’d wanted to help, but both of them knew if Bree did go through with the pregnancy, Alfie would never just let her leave with his child to get on with life as she wanted to. So they’d, or rather she’d come up with the plan to allow Bree to have her baby in peace. And it’d seemed so simple at first: tell Alfie that Bree had lost the baby, and then afterwards she would help Bree get a flat so she could get on with her life, and she would get on with her life with Alfie, and everything would go back to the way it was. Though the best laid plans always had a way of messing up.
And the way she saw it, Bree had a lot to do with it all going wrong by not having the patience to see this out. All Bree seemed to do now was put pressure on her, something she just didn’t need.
Sighing with exasperation, Franny snapped again, ‘What are you talking about? Why are you talking about being a prisoner? This is nothing like your old life. You’ve got everything here. And don’t forget you were part of this plan as much as I was. You agreed to it all. I never forced you, Bree, you wanted this. But now you’re making out like I’m the bad guy here.’
‘I’m not. It’s just that before Mia was born, it was okay staying here, but it’s got worse and worse. This wasn’t the plan, Franny, this …’
‘You’re right, this wasn’t the plan, because the plan never included you being so ungrateful.’
Bree’s face crumpled. ‘I am grateful, Franny, though whether you like it or not, I’m a virtual prisoner. You’ve got to see this is messed up. It isn’t right.’
Franny cut in, refusing to feel guilty when all she was doing was trying to help. Her anger rose as she bounced Mia gently on her shoulder. ‘What I see is I’ve put everything on the line for you. I pay everything for you, I’ve even got Vaughn wanting to go through the accounts because I’ve been taking money from the club right under their noses. And you know as well as I do that if Alfie found out what I’d done, he’d kill me. You do realise that don’t you? But all I seem to get from you is complaints. What do you want from me, Bree? Don’t you understand how much I’m risking by doing all this? I’ve literally done everything possible to make your life easier, and all it’s done is make my life harder. Jesus, Bree, I’m even paying for your other daughter to go to boarding school in Ireland until … well until you get your life sorted.’
‘You mean, until Alfie goes away.’
Angrily, Franny nodded. ‘Yeah, I do mean that, but that’s just the way it is.’
‘But he may never decide to go. Have you thought about that? And what then? Am I supposed to be stuck here forever?’
Fuming, her tension headache returning, Franny’s face turned red. ‘For Christ’s sake, Bree, don’t whine. Alfie will go, just trust me.’
‘How?’
‘Look, I’m working on it okay? That’s all you need to know, and then you can have all the freedom you want, but for now I’m doing this to not only protect myself but you as well. I’m protecting you, Bree, never forget that.’
The two women fell silent, but Franny continued to stare hard at Bree, resenting the pressure she was under.
In one way she understood what Bree was saying, but unfortunately, these things took time. She knew Alfie needed to go away and that’s why she’d kept encouraging him, but she had to be clever about it; Alfie wasn’t stupid, and Bree complaining about it wasn’t going to make it happen any quicker.
She just wished Bree could stop being so selfish and realise she was doing all this for her. All this because of Bree … and of course Mia … yes, baby Mia, she would do anything for her, which in itself was strange, because she didn’t think she’d ever get attached to a baby … To Mia.
She’d never cared that she wasn’t able to have children herself, and she’d certainly never felt anything like love for other people’s children, until now that was. And it made her feel odd, as if she wasn’t in control of her own emotions – which she was always able to keep in check. But somehow, Mia felt part of her, and she honestly didn’t know why, but what she did know was that, for Mia’s sake, she had to make this situation work. But it was getting more and more difficult by the day, and she could feel the pressure coming in from every angle. Vaughn, who didn’t trust her before, trusted her even less now. He was on to her big time.
But whatever happened, she knew Alfie could never find out what she was doing. He would kill her, and not just say it or threaten it, he would actually go through with it. Although she was a woman, she knew the rules of the life they led. Betrayal and lies came with consequences.
But she’d sacrificed too much already for it to go wrong now, and besides, what would Mia do without her? Yes, she had Bree, but Mia needed someone stronger than Bree to look out for her in life. Loving her was one thing, but loving her and being strong was something entirely different.
Trying not to let her exasperation get the better of her, Franny broke the silence. ‘Bree, have a little bit more patience, okay? It’s going to work out one way or another so just try to remember that everything’s for you. Everything I’m doing here is for you.’
‘I wonder sometimes.’
Infuriated by Bree again, Franny paced the floor. Her voice was scornful as she asked, ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Looking pale, Bree swallowed hard before speaking quietly. ‘You’re always so angry with me and you seem … you seem to be more interested in Mia than me.’
Franny walked across to Bree and leant down into her face. ‘Are you being serious? Are you really jealous of a baby?’
Bree shook her head. ‘No of course not! I’m not saying that.’
‘Then what are you saying?’
‘It’s just that you seem different from when we started all this. We were friends and now … I just don’t know how to explain it.’
Guilt and stress and uncertainty rushed through Franny. ‘Maybe because it’s bullshit and there is nothing to explain. You need to grow up, Bree, and appreciate what’s around you, and if you haven’t realised already, this is a really difficult situation I’m in. Don’t forget, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have Mia. You were happy to run off and get an abortion.’
The shock on Bree’s face didn’t mar her beauty but the sadness in her eyes shadowed it. ‘Franny, please don’t say that. It wasn’t like that, you know I was desperate. I didn’t want to bring a child into the life that Alfie leads. All the violence, all the crime. The people that come with it. All the drugs and guns, even the money laundering he does, well it all comes at a price. It’s dangerous and I know what it’s like to live in fear and I didn’t want to bring a baby into that. I know it was you who helped me, but being cooped up here, it’s difficult. The only person I see is you. I just want to go out, even to the park.’
