Goodnight Lady (26 page)

Briony ran her slim fingers over them tenderly.

‘Sally’s coming on Saturday, I’m going to arrange to see Ben if I can.’

Tommy nodded solemnly. Sally was Benedict’s nurse. After Isabel Dumas had stopped Briony seeing the boy, she had cultivated his nurse. Briony now saw him only from a distance but it helped to soothe the ache inside her.

Lowering his head he kissed her belly tenderly.

‘I love you, Bri.’ His voice was husky with pent-up emotion and Briony pulled him on top of her and kissed him, her fingers expertly unbuttoning his trousers. As she caressed him he became hard. He pulled off his trousers and lay beside her, kissing her breasts and neck, murmuring his love for her. Briony slowly unbuttoned his shirt, running her nails gently across his back, feeling the goose bumps appearing on his skin. As he entered her, he groaned. She gripped him with her vaginal muscles, pulling him into her expertly, cold-bloodedly, like one of the girls who worked for her. He felt the familiar feeling of sadness envelop him. He rode her hard, thrusting himself inside her until he was spent. Then he collapsed on top of her, and she loved him then. Kissing him gently, whispering endearments. Enjoying his nearness. And as always he forgave her for his hurt. The feeling he was using her and being used in return. Because he knew that Briony was incapable of the feelings she generated in him, and the saddest part for him was what she was missing. But he petted her as he knew she liked, and kissed her.

They lay together for nearly an hour, both lost in their own thoughts. Both wanting to speak of their real feelings and both lost for words.

Finally, Briony stirred. Slipping from under him, she put on a silk wrapper and built up the fire. It was early evening and the sun was slowly disappearing. She put on the bedside lamps and smiled down at Tommy.

‘What have you been doing today?’

He stared up at her and smiled.

‘To be honest, Briony, I’ve been chasing up Bolger.’

‘What’s the rub? Have you found out who this mysterious backer is?’

Tommy shook his head. ‘Nah. It seems our Willy is staying round with the Oldses. Ronnie Olds hates him, I know that for a fact. He’s always hated ponces. Ronnie’s strictly robbing and villainy. But here’s a lot of dosh being spent, and I’ll be honest, Bri, it’s beginning to worry me. Someone wants us out of the picture for good. We’re not talking healthy competition here, my love, we’re talking death and destruction. Namely, mine and yours.’

She sat on the bed and put her hand over Tommy’s. ‘You’re really worried, aren’t you?’ Her voice was shocked.

Tommy bit his lip and nodded.

‘To be honest, girl, I am. There’s something going down here and I can’t get to the fucking bottom of it. I’ve been tramping the pavements like a madman and I can’t get nothing from no one.

‘Whoever’s backing Willy is very shrewd, and I think we already know that, and he’s arsehole fucking lucky. Because Willy ain’t mentioned him to anyone. Also, whoever it is ain’t a villain, because Willy’s buying up anyone who’s anyone.’

He sighed and wiped his hand over his face. His thick hair was tousled. Looking at him in the firelight, his face drawn, a feeling of fear stole over her. If Tommy Lane was scared then there was definitely something to be nervous about.

‘So what’s to do? Do we sit here and shit ourselves or do we go out and find the fucker? You tell me.’

Her tone was aggressive as she wanted it to be. She was frightened now herself, really frightened, and she didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all.

Despite himself, Tommy laughed. Only his Briony would be prepared to go out looking for someone who could be the death of them. She’d pick up a chair and fight anyone!

‘Tonight there’s a fight over at Victoria Park. Olds will be there, maybe even Willy. I don’t think we can wait for Mariah to have her meet. I think we need the element of surprise, don’t you?’

Briony nodded and grinned.

Tommy leapt from the bed and lit one of his cheap cheroots. ‘Ring for a bit of scran. Bacon and eggs will do, anything. I’m starving. Then I’ll round up all the boys and tool them up. We’ll go there tonight and give them a run for their fucking money. If I’m going down, I intend to take a good few with me.’

Briony rang the bell.

‘I’ll get myself washed and dressed. I think we should get there as the first fight comes on. That way we’ll slip in easier.’

Tommy looked at her and shook his head.

‘Oh, no! You’re not going. That ain’t no place for you, or any woman come to that. You’re staying here. Sort out the clubs, the houses, anything. But you ain’t going near the places tonight!’

Briony faced him. Putting her hands on her hips, she said: ‘And who’s gonna stop me?’

Tommy walked to her and pushed his face close to hers. ‘I ain’t never raised a hand to you, Briony, nor to any woman, but I’ll give you the leathering of your life if you set one dainty foot near that place tonight!’

 

Tommy rounded up twenty of his best men, including Abel Jones and Jimmy Reynard. In the basement of a slum in Wapping, Tommy displayed his arsenal and the men each picked out a weapon and secreted it on their person. Knives, guns and coshes were the order of the day, and as they all left to go to the fight there was a general air of excitement. Most of the men had grudges against the Oldses and the Campbells, so were looking forward to the fight. Tommy smoked cheroots one after the other as the cavalcade made their way to Hackney. They arrived just after nine.

The first fight was already taking place and the park was literally packed out. Tommy and his men pushed their way through the crowds, looking for Ronnie Olds. He would be made to tell them where Bolger was hiding out, even if it meant losing his testicles during the conversation. Tommy was now acting on pure adrenaline. His heightened awareness made him more aggressive than ever and he pushed through the crowds with a grim look on his face. He wanted this sorted once and for all. The chance was he would end his life here tonight but it was a chance he was prepared to take. Tommy noticed Jimmy and another man buying themselves roast chicken from a vendor. Walking over to them, he grabbed Jimmy by the throat.

‘What’s this then, Jimmy, a fucking night out or what?’

Jimmy put the piece of greasy chicken back on the barrow and followed Tommy sheepishly. He was starving. Unlike Tommy he hadn’t eaten since the morning and his stomach was gurgling now, with only a few pints of Watney’s inside it.

Tommy walked along, keeping up a stream of abuse.

‘I don’t fucking believe you, Jimmy! What next? Shall we have a break and watch the poxy find-the-lady bloke? Or, I know, how about we go and have our fucking fortunes told?’

They were approaching the area where the fighters were; a ring had been roped off and the money men were milling around. Tommy spotted Ronnie Olds by a small marquee. He signalled to his men and they all surged forward together. Ronnie was busy taking bets and didn’t see Tommy ‘til it was too late. Tommy was beside him with a false smile on his face and a dangerous grip on Ronnie’s arm. Looking at the old woman who was trying to place a bet, he said, ‘Sorry, love, this bookie just closed. You’ll have to go somewhere else.’

The woman, a known penny lender, looked at Tommy in temper and said: ‘Balls! I wanna place a bet. I’ve been queueing for half an hour!’

Tommy looked down at her and said between gritted teeth: ‘Fuck off, Grandma, or I’ll shove your money right up your arse!’

People began to move away then, guessing there was trouble afoot. It was Ronnie Olds’ trouble and not theirs. The old woman contemptuously spat at Tommy’s feet and went along to the next bookie, complaining loudly.

Tommy pushed Ronnie into his marquee and the two men faced one another.

‘You’re out of order, Lane. You’ve no business coming here and pushing me around.’

‘Bollocks, Ronnie. All I hear lately is you and the Campbells and that slag Bolger. Well, tonight’s the night I pay my fucking debts, and I’m starting with you, matey.’

Ronnie Olds was a big man, big and cumbersome. Tommy knew this and had planned accordingly. Pulling a boning knife from his waistband, he slashed it across Ronnie’s beer belly. The blade went in about an inch. Ronnie watched in dismay as blood began to seep out. The boning knife was so sharp he hadn’t even felt any discomfort. But he was cute enough to know the pain would come. He held his stomach with both hands, unsure whether the knife had cut deep enough to spill out his guts. Once they left the body you were dead. White-faced, he staggered back, his heart beating too fast, sweat appearing on his forehead.

Tommy slashed him again, lengthwise this time. Making a red cross on his stomach.

‘You fucking ponce! You thought you could fuck me up, didn’t you? You thought that Bolger was the dog’s bollocks. Well, he ain’t, mate. He ain’t, but I am. You want violence, I’ll give it to you. I’m gonna take out every one of you, even your fucking drunken old man. You want fear, well, I’ll make sure you get more than you ever dreamt of in your poxy little life!’

He took the knife and wiped it across Ronnie’s face. Slicing through the skin until the cheek flapped down exposing the bone.

Both men stared at Briony as she walked into the tent with Mariah Jurgens.

‘Hurts, don’t it, Ronnie? Stings I should imagine. Well, thanks to you one of my girls was tortured like that by your mate Willy Bolger. Now, where is he? Tommy’s mob-handed and so are we. Me and Mariah just picked up every piece of shite in the Arab quarter of the docks. So you’d better start talking or we’ll just round up your brothers and cut them ’til they tell us what we want to know. Won’t we, Tommy?’

He stared in amazement at Briony and Mariah. They stood there, dressed up to the nines without a flicker of fear on their faces. Mariah grinned maliciously.

‘By the way, Ronnie, we’ve rounded up Micky Campbell too. He’s outside in my car now with Marcenello, the Maltese hero. An Arab friend of mine is watching them for me. You know big Kousan, don’t you, Ronnie? He’s the one who chased you off his manor with a meat cleaver not six months ago when you was trying to get into the dock industry. Well, he don’t like you and I think we can safely say, you don’t like him. So tell us where Bolger is.’

Ronnie looked at the three people in the room. He was gradually feeling a faintness stealing over him. Not just from the loss of blood but at the realisation that here were three people who could not let him live after this night’s work. It was all Bolger’s doing, with his packed wallet and his smarmy tongue. He was as good as dead, and he knew it. Being a nasty man, if he was going he wanted to take as many with him as possible.

‘He’s round Valence Road. Bethnal Green. He’s staying with a girl of his, Gilda the Pole. You’ll find him there. But he’s well protected. The Jews are seeing to that.’

Outside the fight was in full swing and the crowd screamed for blood. That meant an opponent was down. Briony, Mariah and Tommy left the tent without a second look at Ronnie who was still trying to hold his guts inside the large gaping hole across his belly. Ronnie Olds had lived by fear all his life. He was a known villain who dealt out death like other people dealt out cards. Now he was coming to the end of his life, inside a marquee in Victoria Park, a pile of money in his wallet and a bottle of whisky in his pocket. He slumped to the floor and, pulling out the whisky bottle, drank from it eagerly.

He died as he had lived, violently, and there was no one to mourn his passing.

Pushing through the crowds who were eagerly shouting encouragement to the two fighters on the stage, Briony fought down the urge to vomit. As bad as Ronnie Olds was, the sight of him bleeding like that made her ill.

She breathed in the stench of the unwashed bodies around her, the old sweat mingling with the new, the heavy aroma of food cooking on braziers, and the sweet smell of candyfloss and rock, and she emptied her stomach just as she approached her car. As she heaved, Mariah rubbed her back gently.

‘Listen, Briony, if he had his way, he’d have stood and watched you die in agony. I know Ronnie from the old days. Put it out of your mind. He deserved it. And if Tommy hadn’t done it, someone else would have.’

Briony slipped into her car, aware that Tommy had not spoken a word to her which was a sign of his anger. Closing her eyes she sat back in the car as they all made their way to Valence Road. Ginelle’s face danced in front of her eyes, in her ridiculous cloche hat and her silk flapper dresses. And that imitation posh accent she had tried so hard to acquire.

By the time she reached her destination she felt infinitely better, her resolve strong in her once more. She had to frighten people enough so that nothing like this ever happened again. She lived in a violent world where the law of the street was the only law you could live by and survive. Well, she’d made up her mind that was exactly how she would live from now on. She would rule through fear. No one would ever touch her or anyone to do with her again.

At the entrance to Valence Road Briony, Tommy and Mariah directed their respective men. Jimmy Reynard and two others, Abel and Kevin Rafferty, were to watch the back entrance to Gilda’s house. The men rushed off to take up their positions. Micky Campbell and Marcenello sat terror-stricken in Mariah’s car. Kousan, the undisputed leader of the Arabs, sat smiling at them, his huge head seemingly split by a wide grin. His men had stayed at Victoria Park and were rounding up the men belonging to Olds, Campbell and Marcenello. It was a well-planned and well-executed operation.

Mariah and Kousan were old friends and old adversaries. But he had listened to Mariah and Briony and had been persuaded into taking part in this war because he trusted them. It benefited him to have a good relationship with whoever run the East End. No one, but no one, got near the docks unless he allowed it. Anything that went missing off the ships went to him; he had no interest in prostitution whatsoever although a few of the dock dollies were under his protection. That was because they were with Arab men, or had given birth to Arab children at some point. He would enjoy having a good relationship with this Tommy Lane and Briony. It could only benefit them all.