Faces (32 page)

Now, as she watched the girls chatting and laughing, she knew that Mary was only there because her own mother wasn’t around any more to give the poor child advice, not that she would have given her any advice worth taking, of course.

Ange felt the weight of the responsibility she had been given, and she prayed that this marriage would stop her elder son from coming round to her home so much. She was relying on Mary Miles to take over the burden of her son, his black moods, and his colossal anger.

She sat in the small lounge and Mary brought her in a cup of tea. As she took the cup and saucer from her, she looked at the girl sadly, and said quietly, before she could stop herself, ‘Don’t do it, Mary, he’s a hard man to live with and, God forgive me, I should know. Think about what you’re doing, child. You’ve not long buried your mother . . .’

Mary was scandalised at her future mother-in-law’s words and she frowned deeply; her pretty face showing her contempt for what the woman was implying, and believing it to be nothing more than a jealous mother’s rambling. A last-ditch attempt at keeping her favourite son at home with her. Mary saw the sadness in Ange’s eyes and was sorry for her, wondered if she would feel the same when her own son was about to leave his mother’s home. In fairness to Ange, Danny Boy had been the breadwinner for a long time and, with her new generous spirit, she almost understood that she could resent another woman taking her place in her son’s affections.

Mary put her slim arms around her dumpy future mother-in-law’s neck and kissed her gently saying, ‘Don’t worry, Ange, I’ll never take him away from you completely. He loves you and I love him for that, for the way he’s looked out for everyone.’

Ange didn’t answer her, instead she put her head on the girl’s ample bosom and cried like a baby. That’s how they were, arms entwined, and their faces wet with tears, when Danny Boy and Michael walked into the room.

It was a scene that stuck in his mind and left him with a feeling of deep unease. Michael was, as always, thrilled at anything that he saw as emotional, loving, and Danny Boy copied his friend’s reaction, as he had copied his reactions many times in the past. It was Michael who he emulated, who showed him how to respond to situations, because he never knew how to. He actually had no real feelings except jealousy and anger. He was sensible enough to know that the feelings he lacked were the feelings most people felt on a daily basis. But he had long ago stopped feeling anything really, especially fear, empathy, sorrow, happiness, or love. As he saw his mother and Mary hugging he felt nothing but annoyance. He smiled though, as he knew he was expected to.

When they had stopped hugging and crying, he smiled and winked at his mother and future wife as they walked happily from the room, both easier now that they had finally got onto each other’s wavelength. Danny decided the closeness that was suddenly springing between the two women was unhealthy, it made him feel left out of it all. He would have laid money on his mother not being as happy about the forthcoming event as she had seemed to be. In fact, Mary and his mother together like that made him feel not only uneasy, but their obvious affection was something he had not anticipated so had not allowed for it. He didn’t want them to be allies, he wanted them as separate entities, both at his beck and call, each in their own little boxes.

Michael, who he cared about more than he had ever cared for anyone, was thrilled at the new-found relationship. He felt his sister needed a mother figure and said so, and Danny Boy acted as if he felt the same way. But he believed in divide and conquer, and he would divide them and conquer his wife if it was the last thing he did on this earth.

As they both sat down at the dining table Danny Boy said quietly, ‘By the way Michael, I want Louie out of the game.’

Michael looked at him for long moments before saying, ‘Fuck off, Danny, you can’t mean that, he’s been like a father to you.’

Danny Boy grinned. His handsome face, as always, making him look a lot nicer than he actually was. He had a smile that could melt even the hardest of hearts, even though it rarely reached his eyes.

‘I ain’t had much luck with the father I was lumbered with, have I? Once the wedding’s over, I am going to have a fucking serious sort out, and you had better be prepared.’

Michael had suspected that something like this was on the cards, and he had guessed that Danny Boy, being Danny Boy, wouldn’t wait for an opportune moment. He was prepared to steam in and fuck the consequences.

As he watched him chatting and laughing with his sister, Mary, and acting like he didn’t have a care in the world, Michael wondered why he was so loyal to him. He knew Danny Boy was not someone to cross, yet he also knew that he was probably the only person, other than his sister Mary and his poor mother Ange, who could actually make Danny Boy Cadogan change his mind when and as it was needed.

And he was determined to make him see that Louie was the best thing they had going for them, and remind him of how much he had helped them out in the past. Danny Boy had not been right for a while, but Michael knew he had gone through these deep depressions before, even as a kid, so he was willing to wait until he felt better again and then talk him round. Danny Boy was capable of changing his mind in an instant, so he would work on that basis. Even as he was planning what he would say to him, a little voice was telling him that Danny Boy was getting further and further away from reality, and his sister was going to have her hands full once the marriage was in place. But he knew that Danny Boy was the glue that held them all together, and he also knew that anyone who had experienced what he had at such a young age was bound to be plagued by suspicion and paranoia.

Michael Miles still justified his friend’s outlandish behaviour, and he still couldn’t admit to himself that he was actually in dire need of psychiatric help. In their game, Danny’s personality was considered a bonus, and Michael was already in too deep to walk away, even if he had wanted to.

Chapter Fifteen

Danny Boy was watching the priest, who was already half-cut; his breath was heavy on the air, the distinctive tang of cheap whisky making most of the people within a six-feet radius of him turn their faces away in disgust. Danny Boy was pleased to see him finally slipping a couple of extra-strong mints into his mouth and start sucking on them furiously. He had obviously done this before.

He was a big old boy, with the look of a typical Irish priest; a natural-born brawler who had eventually succumbed to the lure of the Catholic church. Danny Boy liked him and was pleased that he had gone to confession the night before. He had done his confession happily, as always. He enjoyed unloading his sins, lifting the burden of guilt they could create, and saying his acts of contrition with a seriousness and deep belief that would amaze anyone who knew him intimately. Danny Boy was a chancer, a waster, but he was also in the thrall of a much greater power. He admired his God, admired the fact he had created a church from fuck all, and loved being a part of that church, even if it was only a quiet acceptance, a quiet belief. A private matter.

After his confession he always enjoyed sitting in the quiet of the church, alone, taking in the stations of the cross, and praying for his plans to reach a good and plentiful fruition. It was a lovely old church, and he had lit a couple of candles for the people he had personally helped to shake off their mortal coil. It was important to him that he remembered them in his prayers. It appealed to his sense of the ridiculous. He was known as a devout Catholic, a regular attendee of the church, and he knew it made his street credibility more interesting.

For all his bastardy though, he genuinely respected the church and its beliefs. Like Jesus, he saw himself as someone who was trying to make the world a better place, but who was being crucified for that left, right and fucking centre. The Filth was bad enough, but the old boys he was dealing with lately were reminiscent of the old moustachioed petes from the twenties and thirties. It was unbelievable the way they acted up over anything new and innovative. He wondered how the fuck they had got to where they were in the first place, without someone fucking aiming them out of it. How could you stay at the top of your game if you didn’t have the sense to diversify? Drugs, especially steroids and other prescription medicines, were a huge earner for the right people. Appetite suppressants, slimming pills, as they were more commonly called, sleeping pills and other medication such as Valium or Mandrax, coupled with amphetamines, were a must-have for the new generation of youngsters who wanted to go out and then
stay
out for as long as was humanly possible. The amphetamine culture was here to stay and, although cocaine was the drug of choice for people with a few quid, as it had been since the late 1890s, when Coca Cola had been advertised for its magical power to relieve fatigue, with over five grams of cocaine in each bottle sold, it was no wonder people didn’t feel the need to sleep. Speed was now a requirement of the new giro generation. It was cheaper and easier to get hold of than coke, and it was guaranteed to make the night last longer. Skag, on the other hand, was like LSD, only really an earner on the right estates, with the right dealers and the right clientele. This consisted mainly of people who owned at least one Pink Floyd album, and didn’t feel the urge to leave their home for what they saw as a good night out. Most heroin addicts tried dealing at some point, and that was a waste of fucking time and energy, they always junked more than they sold. But, with the right dealer, there was a fortune to be made in them there veins.

Danny was having to argue these basic facts with the very people who he felt should have already
known
what was the new must-have designer drug. They were supposed to be at the top of their game, have their eyes on the ball. Well, after today, he was going to be a married man with a wife and the prospect of a family. He knew that he would be seen by the powers that be as
settled
; they were still unsure of loners, men who were not in a settled relationship and were therefore deemed incapable of rational thought. A family man, they believed, was more inclined to think things through, and less likely to put himself in any position of danger that might very well see him on the receiving end of a big sentence. It was sound economics really, and the fact he was marrying the woman whose beau he had taken out was seen as quite romantic. Well, the day had finally arrived and he was to be married at last. He wished the day was over already so he could get on with the night’s affairs. But time passed eventually, even a lifer saw the light at the end of the tunnel one day. Time passed, fast or slow, it passed in the end; any graveyard held the proof of that much.

Danny Boy was dressed in a grey morning suit and top hat; he felt a slight unease, but was still confident as he knew that his build carried the outfit off perfectly. Mary had set her heart on a traditional white wedding and Mary, as he had told her so often, could have what the fuck she wanted. He had wanted to possess her for a long time, and the thought of taking her this night was overwhelming. He had ironed out Kenny, the so-called love of her life, and taken the prize. To know that Kenny was dead appealed to him, appealed to his sense of what was right and fitting. He knew he needed a wife, and he wanted a family for no other reason than it was what people did, it was what most people strived for. Marrying Mary wasn’t going to curtail his nocturnal activities, he would carry on as always. Only now Mary would move into his new house with him and take care of him and his needs and he would give her children and she would be fucking grateful that he had picked her up out of the gutter she had sunk into by fucking someone as low as old Kenny boy.

Having a wife would be a laugh, he was looking forward to saying,
my
wife,
my
kids. It was something he knew would give him an air of normality and respectability that he knew was lacking in his life.

He saw Louie and his wife standing nearby; they were a lovely couple and his wife was a really nice lady, a woman who had obviously never had any carnal thoughts in her life, not even about her poor husband. She was a real Brahma, a real lady. He felt a sudden sorrow at his bad behaviour towards his friend; like Michael said, the man had helped him more than anyone else in his life and how had he repaid that kindness? He had lost it, threatened him, felt the urge to obliterate him. He knew he had to get his temper under control, most of the time he could do it, but every now and then it got the better of him and he just exploded. The scary thing was that there was often no reason for his outbursts, and he couldn’t care less about the consequences when they hit him. He just had to let the anger out, and anyone within his eyeline was fair game. He winked at his old friend and smiled, acknowledging him with an ostentatious wave that was seen and then filed away by everyone in the church. It showed that Louie was a valued friend, almost family, and Michael smiled happily at the gesture.

Michael was standing beside him, his top hat and tails were not as smart as they should have been, but then Danny had made sure of that. While everyone else had rented their suits, Danny had gone to a Savile Row tailor and had his made-to-measure. It was the real deal, and he knew it made him stand out from the other men around him. He looked like a few quid, and that was exactly the kind of impression he had set out to create.

As Michael chatted, Danny affected his usual amiable demeanour of nodding and smiling that made Michael believe he was listening to what he was saying. He was, in fact, looking around the church, impressed at the amount of Faces who had deemed him worthy enough to tempt them into attending his wedding. No one, as far as he could see, had refused his invitation. In fact, he had a full attendance record for the first time in his life. He saw every major crime family of every nationality, and every outside gang was present, meaning the people who resided north of the Watford Gap; all had either come in person, or they had sent a representative of high-standing. Jamie Carlton was there, in the thick of it, which put paid to a few of the more choice rumours about him. That knowledge pleased him. It was a public declaration of his new status and he wanted to use it to put pressure on the people he felt should be investing money in his new businesses. Once they put in a few quid he could stop worrying about them trying to take it over, or muscling in for a percentage. If they harboured delusions of grandeur, for example, dreaming about trying to elbow him out and then attempting to claim the main prize for themselves, he would be far too entrenched for them to get even a fucking toehold. He just wanted their poke and their undying goodwill, anything else was just bunce.