Goodnight Lady (29 page)

Briony and Tommy watched him leave, buttoning his coat. They watched him walk down to the corner of the street and walk into a small shop. He came out five minutes later with a brightly coloured box of sweets. Briony felt her heart stop dead in her chest.

It was as if she was a child again and Henry was coming to visit her, with his little treats and presents. She gripped Tommy’s hand on the steering wheel and whispered: ‘Follow him, let’s see where he’s going.’

He shrugged and started up the car, the urgency in her voice communicating itself to him.

‘He’s got a girl, Tommy. The bastard bought sweets, and from what Sally’s said they’re not for Benedict. He can’t stand the sight of the child. He used to bring me bits and pieces. The bastard, the dirty bastard!’

They followed him, matching his brisk pace. As he turned into Upney Lane, Briony held her breath inside her chest until it hurt. Henry’s pace quickened and when he opened a small wooden gate and practically danced up the path, she felt the rage build inside her. The front door was opened by a young woman. Briony squinted. She looked familiar. The woman greeted Dumas effusively, and when the door shut behind them, Briony and Tommy emerged from their car on to the dirt road.

‘I’ll kill him, Tommy. I swear to you, I’ll kill him!’

‘Calm down. We’ll go in and find out the score. There’ll be no killing here today. If we top him it’ll cause us too much trouble. It’s a warning we’re here to deliver, right?’

Briony stared into his face and the misery she displayed made Tommy want to wring Henry Dumas’ neck.

‘I hate him! I hate him from the very bones, do you know that? Even Olds, as bad as he was, deserved to live over that bastard. Had more right to life.’

Pulling away from Tommy, she walked over to the house purposefully, banging open the little wooden gate and tramping up the neat path as quick as her legs would carry her. Tommy followed her, a feeling of foreboding inside him.

This was more than a revenge. Briony was facing her own personal demons today, he understood that, and as the front door opened, he put his hand inside his coat and caressed the policeman’s truncheon he had placed there earlier. He had a good few scores to settle this day himself.

Christine Howell opened the door smiling, her big moon face split in a grin that rapidly disappeared as she saw the two people standing before her.

‘Where is he?’ Briony’s voice was tight.

‘Who?’ Christine’s voice was high. Fright mingled with confusion making her panic.

‘Who? Who do you fucking think! That nonsense who just walked in here!’

Pushing past the terrified girl, she opened the first door she came to. Bursting into the room, she stopped dead. Sitting by a blazing fire, his face drained of colour, was Henry Dumas, on his lap a little dark-haired girl of nine. Her hands were still clutching the box of sweets, her face a mask of dismay.

As if just realising the child was there, Dumas pushed her from him as if she was red hot, emptying her from his lap on to the carpet with a thump.

‘What are you doing here?’ His voice was high and incredulous. His mouth moved again, but this time no sound emerged. Henry Dumas was literally lost for words. As his eyes burned into Briony’s he became aware of Tommy Lane picking the little girl up and leading her from the room. Heaving himself from the chair, he stood up, shoulders back, and in his most commanding voice, shouted: ‘Leave that child alone! Now take yourself and this ... this ... slut back where you came from!’

His voice and demeanour triggered a reaction from Briony. He dared to shout at them? He dared to stand there in this house and order them out?

She flew at him, hair and nails flying. Instinctively she went for his face, dragging her nails through the soft plump skin of his cheeks, feeling it tear, a superhuman strength flowing through her body. As small as she was, she forced him to the floor. His utter shock at being attacked gave Briony the edge over him. As Henry hit the carpet, his hands trying desperately to hold her clawing fingers away from him, Briony kicked him in the stomach.

He let go of her to hold himself and she picked up the poker from the embers of the fire and brought it crashing down on to his head, the smell of his singeing hair permeating the room. Raising the poker up over her head again she brought it down on to his shoulders and back, again and again, every blow easing the pain inside her until, spent, she looked down on to his bloody face and dropped the poker with a dull thud. She closed her eyes tightly, savouring the moment.

In the recesses of her mind she heard him groan and was aware he was still alive. Her breath was coming in deep gulps, a hoarse whisper escaping from her lips with each gasping breath. Her chest hurt, her arms ached, but she felt a sort of peace descend on her body as she stared at the man before her.

‘You’ll never do to anyone what you did to me, are you listening?’ Her voice was low in the room. The three people at the door watched her in the firelight with a strange fascination. ‘You tried to ruin me, Henry, and you failed, you’ll always fail, because as God is my witness, the next time I have any dealings with you, you’ll die. Ronnie Olds is dead, so’s Bolger. You’ve no one and nothing on your side now. All you have left is me, and I’m gonna watch you from now on, mate. If you so much as shit I’ll know what colour it is. That will be my revenge on you, boy. I’ll see you never play your little games again.’

Henry looked up at her, and even through his pain he realised that in trying to destroy her, he had inadvertently destroyed himself.

‘You so much as breathe at Benedict and I’ll hear about it. I’ve eyes in your house and in your workplace. My boy is all I have in the world, and thanks to you and Isabel I have to look after him from afar. Well, you’ll toe the line after tonight, Henry big man Dumas. You’ll be a proper father to him. If you so much as look at him out of place, I’ll ring your fucking neck. Do you understand me?’

He looked up at her, his face and mouth bleeding profusely.

‘DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?’

Her voice echoed around the room and Henry nodded, the action making him wince.

‘You sicken me. You make me hate like I’ve never hated before. You made me what I am today, and I’ll never forgive you for it.’

She turned from him and walked to the door. Looking into Christine Howell’s face, she sneered, ‘I know you.’ She looked at Tommy who was still watching her with awe. ‘We went to school together, we was in the same class.’ Then, taking back her arm, she slapped the woman a heavy blow to the side of her face.

‘You dirty bitch, you’d give your little child to him? Your own flesh and blood!’ The little girl, her face pressed into Tommy’s thigh, began to whimper. Briony shook her head in wonder.

‘She’s a beautiful child, and you’d let him touch her! You’d deliver her to him on a plate. Well, your game’s over now. You and that child are leaving this drum tonight. I don’t care where you go or what you do, Christine, but I’ll keep my eye on this little girl. I’ll make sure you look out for her or you’ll answer to me. By Christ, you’ll answer to me!’

 

Kerry watched Evander talking to Glennford. She smiled over at them and waved. They waved back and grinned at her, but Glennford’s grin was forced.

‘I’m telling you, Evander, you’re in over your head, boy. From what I have been told, her dear sister, our employer, is now some kind of gang boss here. Her and that Tommy wasted four men the other night! They’re bad people to mess with, and you’re sleeping with her kid sister.’

Glennford’s face was covered with a thin sheen of sweat. Since hearing the talk about Briony and Tommy he had become very worried for his friend, and not a little concerned for himself and the other members of his band. Mud tended to stick in his experience, and the mud would be flying in all directions if Evander’s association with Kerry Cavanagh came to light.

‘I’ll sort it out, don’t worry.’ Evander’s voice was low. His athletic body moved away with speed and easy grace. Glennford stared after him, a feeling of foreboding inside him.

Evander walked to Kerry and smiled at her.

‘You look beautiful.’

Kerry smiled up into his eyes and gave a low throaty chuckle.

‘So do you.’ Without thinking what she was doing, Kerry put up her fingers and touched his face gently.

Glennford watched the exchange and felt the feeling of foreboding once more.

 

‘You look as white as a ghost, Briony. Are you drinking enough milk?’

Molly’s voice was beginning to annoy Briony. Taking a deep breath, she said: ‘Give it a rest, Mum. It’s been a hectic few days.’

Molly wiped Rosalee’s face with a handkerchief and grinned. ‘It has that, child. Oh, you should have seen the way I was treated down the Lane. Like visiting royalty. “Yes, Mrs Cavanagh. No, Mrs Cavanagh. And how’s the girls, Mrs Cavanagh? Give Briony my regards, Mrs Cavanagh.” Huh! The two-faced bastards. I can remember when I couldn’t get a fecking smile outa them. When I had a shilling on a piece of string to see me through the week. Collecting the rotten veg from the gutters as they packed up for the day to keep you lot fed. While that drunken sod of a father pissed away the money in The Chequers ...’

Briony put her hand up to her head and groaned.

‘Oh, Mum, we’re not going through all that again, are we? You’re all right now, aren’t you? You’ve got plenty of money now. Don’t I see you all right?’

Molly looked at her daughter with concern.

‘Jesus and Mary, you’re a daughter any woman would be proud of. Look at the way you handle your businesses. But sometimes, when I remember how it was, how it could have been, I feel the old sadness creep over me. It’s hard to see your babies hungry, you know. To hear them cry themselves to sleep. It’s a sound that never leaves you. You hear it sometimes on the wind when it’s whistling around your house. It still taps on the windows, taunting you in the cold weather.’

Briony smiled a smile she didn’t think she had in her.

‘Well, stop remembering! The old man’s dead, and we’re all alive and kicking. We’ve plenty. Even if I never made another penny we’d have enough to keep us all for the rest of our days. So stop worrying. Now, what’s happening about Eileen?’

‘Well, we thought we’d have the wedding in six weeks’ time. I’ve booked the church, and she’s waiting ’til you’ve a minute to yourself to help her pick the dress. You, Kerry and Bernie and Eileen can all go out together one day. What do you think?’

‘That would be lovely. I know a dressmaker in Bond Street who’ll knock her up a stunner. Real silk and all. She makes my clothes.’

Molly felt as if her heart would burst. Wait till she bragged about this to everyone! A real seamstress making Eileen’s dress. She’d knock their eyes for them.

‘I don’t think it’ll be long before our Kerry’s giving us a bit of news. She’s got a man or I’m Anne Boleyn. Do you know who he is, like?’

Briony shook her head.

‘It’s news to me. I’ve never seen her with a bloke. No one in particular anyway. There’s a young fellow at the club ... he’s an Earl’s son. A second son mind, so he won’t get the title, but he’s besotted with her. Moons over her all the time. But so far as I know he ain’t got anywhere. She’s a dark horse, old Kerry. She’ll do her own choosing, her, and once she chooses, that’ll be it.’

Molly smiled and nodded.

‘An Earl’s son. Oh, that would be nice, that would.’

‘Anyone you think is gentry, as you put it, would do for you, wouldn’t it? Even if he had a hump on his back and a club foot! Mum, believe me, they’re no different from us. They eat, sleep and shit, same as we do. They just do it in nicer surroundings!’

Molly flapped her hand at her daughter and laughed out loud. ‘I’d rather my girls did it in nicer surroundings as well. When I think of what we came from and where we are now. Well, I tell you, girl, it does me heart good. Even my Rosie looks a different girl.’

Rosalee, hearing her name, grinned and clapped her hands together.

‘Bri, Bri.’

‘She loves the bones of you, Briony. You’ve done so well, child. I couldn’t have been happier at the way you’ve turned out. You lot could have been living in the basements now with four or five children hanging round your necks and the back of some bastard’s hand round your lug on a Friday. But not my girls! I can look people in the face now and say: “Not my girls.” My girls are women to be envious of, and believe me, people are envious of you. That Nellie Flanagan - well, it’s like a poker up her arse to think of you lot and what you’ve become!’

Briony laughed despite herself.

‘I hope you won’t use expressions like that if Kerry does bring home an Earl’s son!’

Molly grinned back and said in her best imitation of a posh voice: ‘I’d say poker up her behind if I was in good company!’

They laughed together loudly, Briony’s laugh bordering on the hysterical.

Molly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and said seriously to her daughter, ‘You’re all right, Bri, aren’t you? I mean, now you’re like you are. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?’

Briony felt an urge to tell her mother everything in her heart, but she knew Molly wouldn’t want to hear it. So instead she lit herself a cigarette and said brightly, ‘Of course I am! You’re looking at the first female Baron of this town, and I intend to keep me title, Mother, no matter what. Me and Tommy have this place sewn up.’

Molly laughed in delight. That was exactly what she wanted to hear. After experiencing life with an influential daughter, a really influential daughter, she couldn’t bear the thought of having her new position taken from her.

To Briony, this knowledge was just another cross to bear.

Briony walked into the warmth of The Windjammer and listened to the sounds of conversation and glasses rattling. Giving her coat to Donna, the hat check girl, she smiled at her briefly before entering the club itself.