Trapped

He’d laughed at her then. Had loved the way her nose always curled up when she got on one, but she’d been right. Looking back he didn’t know what he’d been thinking to even contemplate making anything but war with the likes of Max Donaldson.

Years back, before Johnny was born, he and Max had been indirect business associates. Eventually though, Frankie had distanced himself from him when he’d seen the kind of business Max ran and the cruelty he dished out.

Standing back from Max hadn’t really caused the rift. What had started it all was Max owing him money from a big poker game and making him wait over six months for it. Even that though, Frankie knew he could’ve let it go. What he couldn’t let go was when Max had picked up one of the girls who worked in his club on Brewer Street.

Max had taken the girl to a hotel, roughing her up and putting the fear of God into her. Turning her from a hardened brass into a quivering wreck. Her face had been messed up and Frankie had taken her to one of the top docs in Harley Street to get her nose and jaw fixed. The girl hadn’t stayed in London, deciding to return home to her native Glasgow with a few grand given to her by Frankie.

Frankie had then put the word out for none of his associates or acquaintances to do business with Max again. That had been a lot of people. In essence, Frankie had put the glass ceiling on Max being able to go further in his business and making the money he wanted to, as well as reducing him to a man who people feared but no one respected.

Frankie had then wanted to leave the feud. He’d shown Max that in a way he understood; he’d had his punishment. But the feud had started to grow, leaving him with no control over it. Johnny and the Donaldson boys got into endless fights. Gypsy stoked the flames as if she was building a bonfire, and each time he came across Max the man wasn’t ever able to keep his mouth shut and walk away. Leaving Frankie with no other option but to put him in his place, like he’d done last night by throwing the drink over him in the casino.

Frankie sighed, putting his hand out to touch the top of his wife’s head gently. The one good thing to come out of being stabbed would be having Gypsy at home with him without excuses. There’d be no sloping off to the shops or to the bars to meet her cronies for a drink, no squeezing half an hour to herself. After all, she could hardly tell a man who’d just been stabbed that she needed to go and get her nails done. He hated to say it but perhaps Max Donaldson had done him a favour after all.

Gypsy touched Frankie’s hand in response. She’d had such a fright when Johnny had called. She’d thought the worst but hoped for the best. Thankfully she’d got the latter. And the more she thought about what had happened the more thankful she became. Now Frankie would be laid up for the next few weeks perhaps she’d get some of that longed for freedom quicker than she thought. She’d be able to go to the shops and go to the bars to meet the girls without him popping up from nowhere. She hated to say it but perhaps Max Donaldson had done her a favour after all. Smiling, she looked at Frankie who smiled back just as warmly.

Frankie’s phone rang, jarring them both out of their own thoughts and waking Johnny up from his cat nap. Gypsy picked it up in her most eloquent of tones.

‘Hello? Gypsy speaking.’

There was a pause and she rolled her eyes as she listened to the caller on the other end, then quickly passed the phone to Frankie. It was his sister. Gypsy watched as Frankie spoke loudly with a big grin on his face.

‘Lorna! Alright girl, how are tricks?’

Gypsy looked at Johnny who was dropping off to sleep again and pulled a face. She got up to go and find something to eat. She wasn’t interested in listening to her husband’s conversation with Lorna.

She didn’t like Frankie’s sister. She was a loud-mouthed meddling bitch who thought she was Lady bleeding Muck because Frankie had a few bob. Before she’d met Lorna, Gypsy had been looking forward to meeting her, wanting to take her shopping and to hear about what her husband had been like as a child, but within an hour of picking her up from the airport she’d hated every bone in the woman’s body. From the moment Lorna landed from Belgium, she seemed intent of trying to cause a rift. Instead of being pleased that her brother was happily married to Gypsy, she wanted to cause problems. Bad mouthing her to Frankie behind her back and making constant snide comments. Not only had it irritated her, it’d hurt because all she’d ever wanted was to be friends.

It’d taken some hard negotiation but Frankie had managed to persuade Lorna to get back on a plane to Belgium one week later. She’d kicked up a fuss, wanting to stay another two weeks but they’d waved her off, all breathing a sigh of relief to see the British Airways logo speeding past them on the runway.

That’d been fifteen years ago and Gypsy hadn’t seen her since. Apart from occasionally picking up the phone to her, Gypsy had hardly spoken to her either.

Lorna’s occupation when she’d lived in London was as a small-time fraudster. Gypsy knew the police had wanted to question her on a number of chequebook scams; apparently one of the reasons she’d run off to Belgium. Her scams hadn’t been on any grand scale, though according to Frankie she’d done a couple of short stretches inside.

This was one of the reason’s Gypsy had been saved from any more of Lorna’s visits. Lorna couldn’t just jump on a plane. She was wanted but had no intention of serving any more time and unless Frankie provided her with a false passport to travel on she was stuck in Belgium.

Gypsy had managed to persuade Frankie not to sort one out, but it was getting harder and harder to do so. Frankie was a good man by nature, so the idea of his sister pining for the streets of London hurt Frankie, to the point of restless nights.

Twenty minutes later Gypsy found her way back to the cubicle. Plonking herself back on the chair next to Frankie her cockney twang was clear to her.

‘Well, what did the old witch want? It’s unlike her to call on a Tuesday; thought she’d be busy flying about on her bleeding broomstick.’

Frankie scowled at Gypsy. Lorna was a witch, a great big interfering one, but she was also his sister. Whatever trouble she had or hadn’t tried to cause between him and Gypsy the last time, she’d proved her loyalty to him by the weekly phone calls, the sending of the birthday and Christmas cards and her constant – yet turned down – offers of her coming to pay them a visit.

She was family – and family meant something. Not something, everything, so it didn’t feel right Gypsy bad-mouthing her. He’d always felt bad about the way he’d packed her off when she’d come to stay. But if he was honest he’d also been mightily relieved. The bickering between Lorna and Gypsy had done his nut in. If it hadn’t been for the company of Johnny, he’d have booked himself into a hotel.

Even though he’d sent her back to Belgium, he’d always shown Lorna respect, and wife or not, Gypsy needed to do the same. If she couldn’t, then the least she could do was keep her frigging cake hole shut.

‘Don’t say that Gypsy, she’s my sister.’

‘Yes, more’s the fucking pity.’

‘Oh so much for the soft-spoken lady. You’d put the blokes down Smithfield to shame.’

‘You know how she takes me, Frank.’

‘Is it too hard to hope my missus and my sister can get on?’

‘It is when it’s bleeding Lorna. Turn it in Frankie, you know what I’m saying’s true.’

He did know but he wasn’t about to start admitting that to Gypsy.

‘I tried to get on with her Frankie, you saw that. I took her shopping, for facials, to the casino. I even got her a pedicure from Marco and you know how long his waiting list is.’

Frankie didn’t and couldn’t see how having your nails manicured by some queer working in Knightsbridge was any different from getting them done by any of the girls in Chinatown which he on occasion did. But he didn’t say anything and listened patiently whilst Gypsy continued to work her jaw overtime about Lorna at the same time as stuffing her face with the grapes she hadn’t even bothered giving him.

‘Fuck me Frank, we showered money on her and all she did was bleeding moan and criticize. She tried to cause trouble between us. It’s no good shrugging your shoulders Frankie Taylor because you know as well as I do that she did. I’m telling you babe, that woman is a nasty piece of work. No matter how hard I tried with her she still acted like an ungrateful cow. What did I ever do to her? It was the longest fucking week of my life Frank, bleedin’ …’

Frankie had heard enough. He banged his fist on the side of the hospital trolley and immediately regretted the action. A sharp pain tore through his side, making him grit his teeth and throw back his head as he spoke.

‘Well now you’ve got a chance to try again because once I told Lorna what’d happened to me, she wouldn’t take no for an answer. I’m sending one of my men over tonight to give her a passport. By the morning she’ll be on her way.’

Frankie felt the bag of grapes hit his face before he saw it. Then he proceeded to listen as Gypsy screeched at the top of her lungs at him, before storming out of the Accident and Emergency department.

He looked at his son – who was now fast asleep – and sighed. At first he wasn’t really keen himself on his sister coming. But the more he mulled it over the more he thought he might be a good idea, even aside from the guilt he already felt for keeping her away for so long. It struck him he might be able to use Lorna’s visit to his advantage. Lorna might be just the person he needed.

As much as he’d try to insist on Gypsy being by his side over the next few weeks, he was well aware she’d try her hardest, make all the excuses she could to go out on her little jaunts. And when she did? He’d send Lorna, just to watch her, just to make sure he knew exactly where his pretty little wife was going. Yes, maybe this visit from his interfering, busybody sister was just what he needed.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Maggie tucked a sleeping Harley into bed as she looked around the tired room. The woodchip wallpaper had been painted several times, yet it did very little to disguise the damp seeping through the walls, looking like dark angry clouds against a sky of pink. There was a section of the wallpaper which was peeling off completely, and had been patched up by Harley’s colourful abstract pictures.

The view from the tiny window looked out onto rows of monolithic grey tower blocks overlooking Tottenham Court Road. And with a heavy heart, Maggie knew this was where Harley had called home for nearly thirteen months. She was past furious.

Kissing her sleeping daughter on her head, Maggie looked once more at her, not quite believing they were finally reunited. She’d washed Harley’s hair and now it lay in beautiful blonde ringlets on her pillow rather than the matted hair she’d been greeted with earlier. Her face was tiny with rounded cheeks, though worryingly they were less round than they had been a year ago. Her freckles almost looked painted on, splayed perfect tiny brown dots spread across her tiny button nose. She was nothing short of perfect.

Quietly, Maggie closed the door. Giving up smoking hadn’t lasted. She lit up a cigarette, hungrily inhaling the smoke deep inside her lungs, trying to calm herself down. Hoping to stop her head from racing but more importantly, her temper from rising.

The television in the small lounge was on but the sound was turned off and Gina Daniels sat in the tatty burgundy chair in the corner. Maggie pulled a face in revulsion as Gina crammed another bite of the fried egg sandwich into her already full mouth. The egg dribbled out onto her lips, onto her chin and all over her fingers. Unabashed, Gina sucked the runny yellow spillage noisily.

Maggie stared at Gina who seemed deep in thought. She had to find a way to get Harley out of the flat but at the moment she didn’t have anywhere to take her. She couldn’t take her anywhere near home; even being on the other side of Oxford Street was really too close for Maggie’s liking.

In her family only her mum and Nicky knew about Harley and, until her daughter was much older and able to fend for herself, that was the way Maggie was going to keep it.

When she’d first discovered she was pregnant she’d been beside herself with excitement. She hadn’t thought she’d feel that way, especially as having children had never been high up on her list of priorities.

Her mother had casually raised her eyebrows when she’d told her, as if to say she didn’t expect anything different. Then when she’d told her the full story, the casually raised eyebrows had turned into a worried furrow. ‘Maggie, be careful. I’m so scared for you.’ Maggie had watched her mum tremble in fear and the surge of hatred towards her father had hit her once again. She’d taken her mother in her arms, trying to comfort her, trying to reassure her it’d be fine. Though she herself hadn’t known how it would be. ‘It’s okay, Mum. I’ll make it okay. I promise.’

The next person she’d told had been Nicky. He was the only other member of her family she really trusted. Telling Tommy hadn’t even come into the equation. He was lost to himself and over the years her elder brother had become lost to her. She’d tried to reach out but whenever she did, Maggie sensed a dark and powerful rage coming from him which frightened her, not for herself but for him.

When she’d been three months pregnant her mother had come up with a workable idea. She was going to pretend she was looking at a stretch. It hadn’t been difficult to convince anyone. Nobody had cared or questioned it. Her father had just sniffed when she’d told him she was looking at ten months inside for handling stolen credit cards. No one else had said anything or had even been concerned. Even though she hadn’t really been going away, Maggie had found the reaction painful, but it’d still been the perfect alibi.

She’d rented a poky room in Brighton and far from being lonely, she’d enjoyed the time away. The feeling of Harley growing inside her had been exciting and beautiful. It’d felt fresh and pure, unlike the rest of her life. Of course she’d missed Soho, it was in her blood, but her mother and Nicky had visited. There’d been days when they’d just walked on the beach together, eating fish and chips, enjoying each other’s company. Simple but so very rare. A world away from the heaving streets of Soho.

After Harley had been born everything had become slightly trickier. It’d taken a lot of juggling but Maggie had wanted to get back to Soho. Everything she’d ever known was there. It was the tie that bound.

Her mother was there who needed her; had always and would always need her. And though there were times Maggie wanted to run and keep running, taking Harley far away to build another life, she knew she couldn’t. Because there was no one else to protect her mother. Maggie was trapped. In a way they all were.

Nicky had found a flat to rent in Holborn for her. Far enough away from Soho, but near enough to be there each day.

Between her, her mother and her mother’s cousin, they’d looked after Harley, keeping her safe. At first everyone had found it difficult, paranoid someone would get suspicious, but after a time Maggie had realised once more that nobody gave a damn what she did with her life. They were all too busy not giving a damn about their own to worry about anyone else’s.

It’d all been going so well until the day she’d been nicked. Then bucket loads of shit had hit the proverbial fan. Not that she’d known at the time. When she’d been sentenced she’d made a phone call to Harley’s father begging him to make it right, and he’d told her he would. ‘Between us it’ll be fine. Put your head down, do your time. Okay? And Maggie … I love you.’

His words however had fallen short of anything remotely resembling the promise made. Nicky’s habit decided it was more important than his niece. Her mother’s cousin needed to go back to Ireland. Her mother had tried – though Maggie didn’t know how hard – but failed to get away from the house enough without raising suspicion. So that’d only left one person. The one person Maggie thought she could rely on. Yet he’d let her down. More to the point, he’d let their daughter down.

Sitting in the drab smoke-filled flat, it became clear to Maggie why Harley’s father hadn’t helped. It was for one reason and one reason only. He just didn’t care. Maggie Donaldson realised like all the other people in her life, Johnny Taylor didn’t give a damn.

‘I want you to start from the beginning, Gina. I want you to tell me why my daughter’s spent the last year in this dive with you. And why she looked so filthy, with holes in her clothes. And believe me, I’m not in the mood for any of your games.’

‘Bleeding charming I’m sure. No thank you for looking after my child when nobody else wanted her, Gina. Just abuse. I don’t know why I bothered.’

‘Don’t pretend you’re doing this from the good of your heart. I know you. You wouldn’t even bother sleeping if you didn’t think there was something in it for you. Come on Gina, what are you getting out of it?’

‘Nothing apart from bleeding grief. I expected a bunch of flipping Interflora to thank me for what I’d done, not the Spanish bleedin’ inquisition. I kept me mouth shut didn’t I? Christ alone knows I’ve looked after her as if she was one of my own.’

‘Your kids were put into care, Gina.’

‘Well I still say that wasn’t my fault. How was I supposed to know they’d knock on the neighbour’s door when they ran out of milk. I was only gone for five bleeding days, and anyway that’s beside the point. I’m telling you, Maggie, I’ve done nothing but put your kid first. At times over this past year, I’ve looked in the mirror and instead of seeing meself I saw bleedin’ mother Theresa staring back at me.’

Maggie shook her head, amazed at Gina’s audacity. It was clear she hadn’t and didn’t care about Harley.

‘Enough, Gina. I want the truth and I’m only going to ask you one more time. What was in it for you?’

‘Well I’ll tell you this; I went short for looking after your girl. There were times I …’

‘Stick to the story Gina.’

Gina looked at Maggie indignantly, then continued.

‘From what I gather some soft cow from the sauna had been looking after Harley, you know the sort, thinks taking kids to museums and making cack with them they see on CBeebies will do them good.’

Maggie raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything. The woman sounded better than Gina.

‘Anyhow, her old man got himself nicked for smuggling in a truck load of tobacco. He’s on remand in Maidstone, looking at five years. So of course daft cow decided to move down there. And of course it’s not like Johnny could just go to a nanny agency. He could hardly trust a stranger to keep her mouth shut, with all that goes on in his business could he? So he was desperate. And me being me, when Nicky told me the story of the poor little mite, I couldn’t not offer to help. What with me loving kids and all.’

Gina noticed Maggie’s glare and, realising she may have laid the Mary Poppins part on a bit too thick, changed tack.

‘Johnny sorted Nicky out with a few bob. Nicky passed it onto me but that’s all it was most of the time. A few bob. I didn’t know a kid could cost so much. So you see Maggie, when it boils down to it, it was all from the good of my heart.’

‘And you’re telling me you didn’t slip some in your pocket? That’s unlike you, Gina. Goes against the nature of your beast don’t it?’

‘If anything slipped in me pocket it was a pile full of bills and a packet of headache tablets.’

‘Gina, I’m going to check with Nicky and if he tells me something different then you and I will be having more than just a chat.’

‘He’ll say the same. The only person who probably won’t is Johnny. No doubt he’ll pretend he was giving us the readies by the handful. But he’ll be lying.’

‘And why would he do that? Why should I think it’s you and not him who’ll tell me the truth?’

‘Then where is he? Where’s he been for the last year? I know I haven’t seen him. He’s been happy to palm Harley off.’

Maggie shifted uncomfortably in her chair. This didn’t go unnoticed by Gina. She continued to put the boot in, wanting to put more doubt in Maggie’s head.

‘I’m sorry Maggie but I don’t need to spell it out. You can see for yourself. I’ve been doing my bleeding best but I won’t lie, it’s been a struggle. The reason Johnny will probably say he’s been giving us more than he has is because he’s ashamed. Ashamed he hasn’t done enough. If I were you I wouldn’t say a word to him. Speak to Nicky instead. The last thing I want is trouble knocking on my door.’

Gina stopped then added slyly, ‘And if there’s trouble, then maybe I’d have to rethink about having Harley here. And what would you do then eh, Maggie? Who else would keep their mouth shut the way I’ve done? But of course sometimes it takes a little, how should I say it? A little extra incentive to keep mouths shut. I was only saying to Sonya the other day how I need to get myself a pair of new shoes.’

There was a long silence. Then Maggie leaned forward. She was close enough to smell Gina’s foul breath. Her blue eyes darkened as she spoke in a whisper.

‘Gina. I hope you’re not trying to blackmail me. You’d be very silly to do that.’

‘Blackmail! Phew, Maggie Donaldson, what an imagination. Wherever did you get that idea from?’

Gina Daniels wrinkled up her face, pretending to be hurt by the accusations. The last thing she wanted to do was piss Maggie off. She knew Maggie’s temper. The whole of Soho did. She’d been silly to say that to Maggie but Gina had a habit of always pushing things further, hoping to see what else she could get out of a situation.

She was onto a good thing. Gina and Nicky had worked things out nicely between themselves. She didn’t need little Miss Maggie May and her spoilt goon of a boyfriend ruining things.

She needed to play things carefully. It was the easiest bit of money she’d made in a long time. The kid was no problem. Most of the times she just sat in her room holding onto her stuffed rabbit or she’d be colouring and cutting up endless pieces of paper.

For a three year old she wasn’t any bother, but if she ever did become a bother, she wouldn’t hesitate to give Harley a hard slap. Hard enough to show her who’s boss, but soft enough for it not to show. One thing Gina wasn’t, was stupid.

CHAPTER TWELVE

It was coming into the early hours of the morning and Johnny Taylor looked at his phone. The five texts on his mobile were still unopened, still sitting in his inbox. They were all from Maggie. He couldn’t bring himself to read them. He knew what they’d say. He wouldn’t blame her. But what was he supposed to do? It was complicated. In fact it was impossible. And now his father had been stabbed by Max, the situation had become hopeless.

Sitting outside Whispers club in Old Compton Street, Johnny pulled his Armani jacket tightly around him. The night air was cool, which he was grateful for. Soho in the summer became oppressive. It was also clearing his head, but he could still feel the excess alcohol in his blood, and he sensed it wouldn’t take much for his head to start to ache again.

Johnny continued to sit on the metal chair, enjoying the lights of Soho against the cloudless night sky, aware there was a huge city beyond the other side of the buildings, yet the intimacy of the area made him always feel there was no other place he’d rather be.

He blew out a ring of smoke and slightly choked as it caught the back of his throat. He watched the crowds of people congregating outside the late night opening pubs, smoking their cigarettes, finishing off their beers. Standing around in short sleeved shirts and t-shirts. Feeling the chill of the air, but guarded against the full severity of the cool summer night by the warmth of the alcohol.