Faces (33 page)

As he pictured the money he was going to collar, he heard the first few bars of Mendelssohn and, plastering a big smile on to his face, he turned and watched his soon-to-be wife as she floated down the aisle on a cloud of white lace and very expensive perfume. She looked fantastic, there was no doubt she was a good-looking girl, but she was also soiled goods and that meant he would have to watch her like a hawk. She had been a girl, as everyone there knew. A lively lass, a bit of a laugh, a good lay. She had a rep that was as outstanding as it was annoying. But she was radiant now as she walked down the rose-petal strewn aisle to her new husband’s side, amid gasps of admiration from the women, and grunts of lechery from the men. Danny Boy knew they were grading her from one to ten, and not finding her lacking. She looked absolutely stunning, and so she should, the dress had cost the national debt, and everyone remarked on that fact. She was like a movie star, and that was
exactly
the impression she had set out to create for herself.

Like her beau she had seen this wedding as the social event of the year and had made sure she was dressed accordingly. They had taken over a local nightclub for the reception, and the food was being prepared by a top London chef. The music was going to be spectacular, and the late-night buffet was costing them as much as the sit-down meal. The Rolls Royces were booked for the whole day, and would take them to Heathrow later on that night to begin their three-week honeymoon in Mauritius. All in all, this was going to be the wedding of the decade, and she was already, without a doubt, the best-looking bride they had seen for many a year. Fuckable, yet virginal, and that was something she had not been since her school days.

 

Ange looked at her sons as they waited for the bride to arrive. She was happy enough, and her husband was standing beside her, his tails a bit too big on his bony frame, but still looking good on him. He had been a handsome man in his day, and still was if he bothered to get himself dressed up. She saw her daughter’s petulant face, and she understood her hurt at not being a bridesmaid. She knew Mary had wanted her for the job, but it was Danny Boy who had put the kibosh on it; he was not impressed with her at the moment. She could sympathise with him though because she felt the same way towards her herself. The girl was a fecking whore in the making and this might just be the nudge she needed to set her straight.

As Ange scanned the church she was also seriously impressed by the people who had turned out to see her boy married. She knew the guest list was making her husband green with envy and she didn’t care. She was making the most of her moment of glory, what else could she do? She had learned, a long time ago, to make the most of whatever came her way. Life, more often than not, had a habit of disappointing her so why not enjoy the good times while she could?

 

‘So the tenth of May will be your wedding anniversary then?’

Mary nodded happily and her brother Gordon who she had thought looked so handsome in his tails, said loudly and drunkenly, ‘A white dress, sis?’

She was already feeling the shame of his glare. He was not afraid to say his piece, afraid to offend. He was a bastard when he was drunk. Like their mother he couldn’t just have a few drinks, he drank seriously.

‘Stop it, Gordon, not now. Danny Boy won’t swallow your jokes.’ She was attempting to warn him, but it was a friendly warning that she knew he could not help take on board.

He grinned at her then, and she realised he was past talking to, and she wanted to physically harm him. He always had to cause a scene, always felt the need to hurt everyone around him. Any other time she felt a deep sorrow for him, but today she hated him for it, today she had hoped he would not act up. But she could see the hate in his face, the flushed redness from the drink he had already imbibed, the recklessness of someone who had not yet come across Danny Boy with the hump.

‘That’s a bit like putting the cart before the horse ain’t it, sis, considering your past form? You’ve had more cocks than a hen house. I heard you was so popular in the pub that they named a toilet stall after you.’

He was looking at her with his usual drunken amiability, this was a stance he took so that he could act contrite the next day. He would say that he was only joking. Mary felt the smile freeze on her face. Gordon was always the first to cause trouble, and she was sick of it. She had been fool enough to believe he would behave himself today. She should have known better; at his age, he thought he was the dog’s gonads, and she had never bothered to disabuse him of that notion. She had spent her life sticking up for him, and now she was sorry that she had not done what everyone else had, given him a wide berth and left him to get on with it. Once he had a few drinks he was a nightmare, he was his mother’s son all right. Alcohol made him angry and vicious, made him into an evil mirror image of his usual self.

As she looked into his eyes she saw the calculated and wicked glint still there, and knew he was too far gone to be reasoned with. She glanced round her; the club they had taken over was decorated with lilies and white roses, the whole colour scheme creams and golds. It looked stunning, and her little brother, as always, had to put a vicious barb in where nice, friendly chat would have sufficed. He was so eaten up with jealousy and hatred when he had taken a few drinks that he often got a smack across the earhole from his unsuspecting victim. And always people he thought cared about him, people he didn’t think would be hurt, offended or humiliated by his words of wisdom. His excuse was always the same, he had only spoken the truth, as if that fact alone would wipe out the pain and the trouble he had caused. Knowing that the truth, in their world, was the last thing most people were interested in. The truth was, more often than not, an expensive and much over-hyped emotion that was, in actuality, a destructive and dangerous force. The truth was not for the likes of them, and this brother of hers knew that better than anyone. He was a bastard, and he was not about to give her any kind of leeway; he was determined to break her heart. He was not bothered about his words, or the effect they might have, he was lost in the moment, already unable to distinguish between her pain and his obvious cruelty. And he had promised her he would behave, promised her he would not drink until the evening. She now had to accept that, young as he was, he was an alcoholic as well as a drug addict. A complete pisshead who cared nothing for her or her new husband’s feelings.

This
day
had been all she had thought about for weeks, all she had cared about, and all she had talked about. Gordon, like Michael, had known how much this wedding had meant to her, how much she depended upon its success so her marriage could start off on the right foot. Gordon, more than any of them, knew how much she had depended on her family’s cooperation, to not only ensure the day went off without a hitch, but also to guarantee that there would not be any embarrassing moments. Now he was the instigator of his sister’s humiliation and it wasn’t fair.

She had planned this day down to the last detail and, now that it was finally here, now that she was legally married and her life more or less sewn up, it was on the point of imploding because of a few choice words uttered by her little brother with a drunken arrogance and fatal finality that she knew was going to make her fall from grace all the more spectacular. That her little brother was the one who was showing her up in front of her friends, at least her new husband’s friends, was harder to bear than anything he was saying about her. That he was so obviously enjoying his ruination of her big day was hard for her to comprehend. She couldn’t ever imagine herself doing something so heinous, so hateful to her own family. But why would she hurt him, after all,
she
loved him.

She felt the sting of tears at the enormity of his betrayal, and blinked them away angrily. Then she whispered in his ear brokenly, ‘Shut your fucking mouth, Gordon. Who do you think you are?’

She looked into the face so like her own and marvelled once more at how he could hurt her like this, could enjoy the spiteful words, as if she was his worst enemy. How could he enjoy making her feel so bad about her lousy family on the biggest, most important day of her life. He always made a point of targeting her, making her feel like nothing. She knew it was because he
could
, because he knew he would always be a
nothing
, a no one, and that was why he felt such joy when he hurt her like this. He borrowed money from her, and used her when he needed anything, and he resented her for that, for her generosity. Instead of feeling thankful that he had a sister who loved him and was more than willing to help him out he resented her for her generosity and hated himself because, without it, he couldn’t exist. She finally knew what he had known all along. Gordon was a ponce, a twenty-four carat drunken ponce, devoid of conscience and unable to grasp the rudiments of daily life. He was ruining her wedding without a second’s thought for her or her husband. That knowledge would plague her for the rest of her life. Anyone else and she could have stood it, but her little brother’s betrayal was too much for her to take.

‘You rotten bastard. Stop this, Gordon, and I mean it.’

Gordon laughed. Away from Michael’s side he was quite a good looker, but, next to Michael and this sister of his, he looked what he was; a cheaper, much rougher version of his siblings. He knew that, and it was one of the reasons he always had to cause upset whenever they were together like this. He opened his blue eyes wide, acting innocent, then, placing a grubby hand across his mouth, he said loudly and sarcastically through his nicotine-stained fingers, ‘Oh, sorry, sis, what’s the official story then? That you’re a born-again virgin? Surely Danny Boy hasn’t forgotten Kenny, he had a bit of a problem with him didn’t he?
You
must remember Kenny, sis, surely, I know I do.’

He had finally stepped over the line, and somewhere in his drink- and drug-addled brain even he knew that. Knew he was out of order, was going to pay for his treachery, knew his sister was never going to forgive him.

None of the small crowd nearby were official friends of either her or Danny Boy really, they were what she termed as the alternative guest list. People Danny felt had to be invited, as opposed to people they wanted to invite. So her brother’s antics were all the more outrageous because they were not used to him like her friends were, they were not in a position to shout him down, to tell him to stop his lunacy before Danny Boy heard him. These were people who were actually on the lookout for a bit of gossip about the night, who were not there to wish them well, but were there just to show their face, show a bit of goodwill and give a decent present to show how far on they had come in life. For them to witness her little brother’s tirade was more than she could bear, especially as she knew every word would be repeated and picked over by half the London underworld for years to come. Her lovely day was ruined, the day she had sweated blood over planning was going to be a terrible memory like so many other bad memories in her life, especially where her family were concerned. But, knowing that everything was now ruined anyway, and that all she could do really was effect some kind of damage limitation, she smiled as best she could and said through her gritted teeth, ‘Danny Boy will kill you for this, Gordon, he won’t swallow your fucking antics like we do. You are making a mockery of a man who, as you rightly pointed out, is capable of killing to get what he wants. He is also capable of killing people he thinks aren’t giving him the respect he feels is his due.’

The last few words were as much for the benefit of the people listening in, a tacit reminder that Danny Boy Cadogan was capable of extreme and excessive violence when pushed over the edge. She was suddenly worried now at Danny’s reaction to her little brother’s actions. As much as he could irritate her, she still didn’t want to see him hurt. Leaning forward, she whispered in his ear, ‘You’ve ruined me day for me, I hope you’re happy now.’

He leaned back, his boyish body cumbersome in his grey tailored suit and shouted happily, ‘I’m over the moon, sis. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer girl.’

Then, looking around the beautiful room, he said even louder, ‘Mum would have loved this. She’d have felt like me, Mary, that you’re acting like you’re better than everyone else, and trying to pretend you are happy. Well, you don’t fool me, girl . . . You’re a fucking mug . . .’

Mary was really crying now, because he was so far off the mark it was laughable; he believed she was doing what her mother had expected of her, marrying Danny Boy for what he could offer her as opposed to what she might want. Her mother would have pushed her into the marriage and then slaughtered her because of it. Her brother’s usual drugged and drunken ramblings were generally ignored by family members, but this was public, tantamount to mutiny, and she wasn’t about to let him get away with it any more.

As she stood there in her long white dress, her veil touching her slim shoulders and her high-heeled shoes crippling her, she felt a terrible sense of foreboding, as if this was a warning to her about how her life was going to be from now on. It was so real she felt as if she was going to pass out, and she wanted that to happen, just so she could get away from this feeling, and from her brother’s vitriolic ramblings.

Jonjo Cadogan was in shock, he had always known that his friend was a bit of a headbanger, but to hear him talking to his own sister with such disrespect was unbelievable, and on her wedding day as well, the day she had married
his
brother and taken
his
family name. Jonjo felt the anger erupting inside him then, and suddenly he understood his brother’s need for their family’s name to be honoured. For the first time ever, he felt the urge to defend his family name. Danny Boy had always seemed over the top to him, his hatred of their father and his determination to make their name mean something had always seemed stupid, unnecessary. Now though, it seemed perfectly reasonable. Danny always said, all you had at the end of the day was your name, and that made it the more important because it was something you either respected or you were ashamed of. Your name was all you had, the only thing that you couldn’t ever deny. Now, listening to Gordon, he saw for the first time what Danny Boy had meant by that. Your name was all you had. You had to give it away one day, to your bride, or your children, and then you had to live up to it, or you had to live it down. Your name was the only thing you ever really owned, for good or for bad; that choice was yours. Danny Boy was trying to reclaim their name, make it mean something once more. He had given it to Mary Miles, and her brother had stamped on it without a second’s thought. She was a Cadogan now, and her shame was now his.