Faces (16 page)

His mother’s white face was not affecting him any more; his anger was overpowering in its intensity. He was sick of her, sick of her turnaround, of her trying to make out her husband was someone he wasn’t. ‘Don’t push me too far, Mother, because you can’t look out for your kids, so I have had to do that for you. You forget all about that part of it, don’t you?’

Ange was looking at this son of hers, wondering where this anger came from, yet all the time knowing it was to be expected. In her heart of hearts she knew, as always, that she was letting them all down, that her kids knew she was putting her husband over them once more, putting her marriage over their well-being. She knew they were right, but it didn’t change how she felt.

‘I’m warning you, Mum, don’t ever make me choose, and don’t ever make me angry like this again. Unlike you, I have what is known as loyalty. Something that you and that ponce who calls himself my father would know nothing about.’

She nodded sadly. ‘But he can stay?’

He nodded, his clenched fists apparent and his utter disgust at her actions telling her this was final. There was no more talk left for them. This was the end of it. It was only when she turned away from him that he saw she was pregnant again, and the realisation of her utter betrayal was such that it nearly sent him over the edge.

 

Louie knew something was bothering the boy but no amount of careful questioning could make him confide what it might be. He had wondered if it was a girl: he knew the boy was active in that department and he knew the girls liked him, they walked past the yard in their finery, smiling at the boy and, more often than not, getting no response whatsoever. He was a treat-them-mean, keep-them-keen type of lover. At least that was the impression he gave. As Louie watched him talking to a totter, and doing a deal for some scrap copper piping, he knew that whatever ailed him was colouring his whole life. He looked older, as if he had the weight of the world on his young shoulders. And Louie knew that this state of affairs couldn’t go on for much longer. The last few weeks had seen a great change come over the boy and it wasn’t for the good either; that much was apparent to anyone who knew him.

And he knew Danny Boy better than anyone by now. For all his bravado and his fighting nature, he knew that underneath he was still a kid, a kid who was keeping his whole family from penury, and making sure that his siblings had a better chance at life than he had. And, if the gossip was true, another child was on the way, and the father was masquerading as a cripple so the chance of him ever doing an honest day’s work was about as likely as the Pope giving lessons in contraception. As Louie waved the boy over, he wondered how he was going to ask him what was going on, what his reaction would be to his queries, and whether or not he had any real right to interfere in the boy’s private business.

Michael was working out how much they were earning from their new businesses; in the last few weeks they had been handed a lot of smaller debts that were seen as far too cheap to be called in with serious violence. Danny Boy was seen as a new up-and-coming young Face and the men who were owed the money knew that any business they passed over to him would also be seen as a gesture of kindness. After all, the boy needed a few quid for his family’s welfare, so it looked as if they were just giving him a heads-up. In reality, people were collecting money they would normally write off until serious damage was called for. That would generally involve the borrower asking for more dosh at some point, and then the rest would be history. All in all, it was an earner for everyone involved.

And Michael knew that if you looked after the small amounts, the pennies, then the pounds, seemed to multiply at an alarming rate, especially when, like them, the pounds were still important.

They were the new rude boys, the answer to everyone’s prayers. Danny Boy Cadogan would hammer the fuck out of someone for a score; in everyone’s eyes that made him a winner. He got to keep the poke, and the person owed the money was suddenly unwilling to let the debt ride the usual course.

It was a win-win situation once again and Michael, like Danny Boy, was all for making the most of it. Exploiting a situation was their mantra, and it seemed to be catching on. They were also being asked to supply puff to a new clientele and that pleased them. They were being talked about, were sought after, they were like the new kids on the block and they were loving every second of it. Every Face in the Smoke was aware of them, liked them, admired them. They were kids, no threat to anyone yet, but useful if a small job came their way. This was what they had talked about, prayed for. Little acorns.

 

It was dark, the night air was cold, and the distant sound of a police siren broke the silence. Danny was seriously drunk and the cold night air cut through his lungs every time he took a breath.

He had left the scrapyard hours before; guessing that Louie was going to give him one of his fatherly talks, he had gone on the trot. As much as he liked the man, there was no way he was going to discuss this situation with him. The shame was too much to bear; it was bad enough that everyone knew his father had more or less dumped them all, leaving them up shit creek without the proverbial paddle.

As he walked towards Shepherd’s Market he felt the anger building up inside him all over again. He was fifteen and he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. But he would use his father to better himself, make himself look the big man. The generous son. He was, after all, his flesh and blood. Then, when the time was right, he would take great pleasure in aiming him out the front door once and for all.

Tonight he had had a meet with a Face from Silvertown, Derek Block, and he had agreed to collect a few debts for him in the coming weeks. Then, after they had concluded their bit of business he had gone on the piss big-time. Derek Block had found his drunkenness highly amusing and had actively encouraged it. Danny Boy decided he liked Derek Block more than he had thought possible. Considering the man was a fucking cretin of the first water, he had been pleasantly surprised at how much he had enjoyed getting pissed with him. Now he was once more alone and, though full of alcohol, he still managed to walk a straight line and look relatively sober.

Danny Boy was dressed smartly as always, a nice dark suit and heavy overcoat making him look older than his years. His mother and her pregnancy, her disgusting betrayal of them all, was at the forefront of his mind as he strolled through Shepherd’s Market.

It was late, so he eyed up the last few working girls surreptitiously, they were the dregs of their tight-knit society and that caused his anger to boil to the surface once more. He took deep breaths, determined to get his anger and his temper under control. He liked the brasses, they were easy pickings. He knew where he was with them, and he didn’t have to be nice if he didn’t want to. They were nothing more than a commodity to him; they scratched his itch without him having to pretend he liked them. His sexual appetite was enormous and he knew that it was far bigger than all his contemporaries’ put together. Most of them wouldn’t know a shag if it fell out of a tree and hit them on the head. They had to be content with talking about it, all the time making sure their right hands were in perfect working order. But he needed to release his pent-up aggression regularly, and the sex act did that for him.

The market was nearly empty and he walked on briskly now, wishing he had not left it so late. Then he saw a young girl in the shadows; she was obviously new to the pavement, her skin was still clear and her eyes didn’t have the feral glint that came with experience and the overuse of her body for monetary gain.

She smiled at him sheepishly, and he motioned with his head for her to follow him. He could hear the clacking of her shoes on the pavement as she struggled to keep up with him, and he grinned to himself. He was leading her away from her comfort zone and it was late; she was obviously in dire need of money. She was wearing a short satin skirt, a tie-dyed shirt and an Afghan coat that had seen better days. Her long, slim legs were bare, and the high-heeled shoes she wore only served to hinder her progress. He stopped in a doorway and watched her as she teetered towards him. Her heavily made-up face showed her nervousness, and her clothes made her look ridiculous. He smiled as she sidled up beside him.

In the dim light he saw she was actually really pretty, no more than seventeen years old, and seriously stacked. Her smile revealed small white teeth, and a trust that was completely wasted on him.

Danny Boy stared down at her for long moments. She had thick blond hair, wide-spaced blue eyes and a tiny, heart-shaped face. Her creamy skin was still smooth, without the tell-tale lines that street walkers seemed to acquire at an early age. Her garish make-up made her look even younger than she was and her wide smile was genuine. And she was devoid of the usual banter and chat that heralded the request for money in exchange for sexual services. She was a brand-newey all right.

‘How much?’

She shrugged, her slim shoulders making her look even more vulnerable. ‘I don’t know. What do you normally pay?’

She had a quiet voice, and her breath was evident because of the cold. He didn’t answer her. Instead, he pulled her towards him and, grabbing her, he began to feel her all over. As he squeezed her breasts roughly she closed her eyes tightly, and he forced her legs open with his knee. Pushing her backwards against the shop door, he kissed her. Forcing his tongue into her mouth, he explored it as if she was a real girlfriend. She tasted of Wrigley’s chewing gum and cigarettes. Danny never kissed brasses; this was a one-off for him. As he fingered her she sighed, then he kissed her so violently she couldn’t breathe. She tried to pull away, but he held her there by grabbing a handful of her hair, pulling her head back until she thought her neck would snap. Then, panicking, she realised that he was determined to hurt her. He bit down hard on her bottom lip and she cried out in pain. Danny tasted her blood and it only served to make him more excited. He had released her breasts from her top and he lowered his head and sucked and bit at them until she was crying with the pain and humiliation. Picking her up in his arms he positioned her so he could thrust himself inside her and as he felt the tightness of her, he knew that this was what he had been missing out on: that she was relatively unused so her body was still firm and exciting. The fact she was dry, sore and in agony didn’t enter his mind, he was lost in the feelings she had created in him and, pulling her legs around his waist, he pummelled her until he felt himself coming.

‘You fucking slag, you fucking whore.’

He repeated those two sentences over and over again, and she realised he had no idea he was even saying anything.

As he groaned loudly and came back to reality, he heard her voice telling him to stop. She was fighting him now, her pain and hurt making her stronger. Grabbing her wrists he slammed her hard against the wooden door. The force knocked the wind out of her and her little face screwed up in pain and bewilderment. She looked at him and knew then that he was really dangerous, knew his good looks hid a demon. She stopped trying to fight him, and waited for him to finish, knowing then that any kind of resistance was useless. When it was finally all over he held her close, his breathing loud and ragged in her ears.

The burning inside her was real, and she knew he had hurt her, really hurt her. Her legs had been pushed so far apart that she felt as if her hips were about to break, and her back was raw from being slammed into the brass handle of the shop door.

Danny looked down at her once more, he had never felt like that before. Her youth and inexperience had excited him in a way he had never believed possible.

The pain was unbearable and, as he placed her gently onto the ground, she winced. She couldn’t stand up, and she grabbed at him then. Her legs buckled and she dropped onto her knees. The pain was overwhelming: she knew she was bleeding, that the warm wetness between her legs was not just from him.

Danny watched the girl’s face and, as his head cleared, he knew he had fucked up, knew that he had really hurt her. She was doubled over, and he hastily rearranged himself until he was decent once more. Then he looked around him, checked in case someone was in the vicinity, had been witness to his actions. The road was empty, and the girl was now attempting to stand up. She was clutching at his overcoat, trying to drag herself upright. Her pretty face was screwed up in pain, and he could see the terror in her eyes at what had befallen her. He could smell her now. It was a bitter, sweaty smell and it made his stomach heave. He saw her legs, blue and mottled from the cold night air, and the dirt that was ingrained around her ankles. Her thick hair was greasy and, as her fingers clawed at his coat, he was aware of chipped nail varnish, and nicotine-stained fingers. Now he had sated his appetite the reality of what she was hit him. She was filthy, her eyes sunken, a junkie’s eyes. She was a runaway, the scum of the earth and he was ashamed to admit he had shagged her.

‘Please . . . I can’t get up . . .’

Her mouth was a dark cavern now, and he had kissed her, with her custard teeth and smudged lipstick. He felt the bile rise inside him and swallowed down the urge to vomit. His fist was loud when it connected with her forehead and, as she collapsed onto the dirty floor, he kicked her. The blow was so powerful it lifted her off the ground and Danny felt her ribs crumple as they came into contact with his well-polished brogues. He stepped back and looked down at her as she writhed in agony on the cold pavement, her cries high-pitched and her eyes screwed up with pain. He kicked her again, this time in the back of her head. The force of the blow sent the girl sprawling across the pavement and Danny watched her as she attempted to crawl away from him.

She was quiet now, unable to scream or talk, her instincts telling her she couldn’t defend herself, all she could do was try and get away from the person who was hurting her. As she tried to absent herself from the terrible situation she had found herself in, she knew in her heart that it was futile.