Black Widow (33 page)

Layla huddled in a dark corner with her eyes closed. She felt safe that way. In fact, it was the only time she actually felt even a little bit safe, when her eyes were closed, because then she couldn’t see anything bad, and if she couldn’t see it, then it wasn’t there.

Now she heard movement very near to her. Layla opened her eyes. It might be a rat. She had seen a rat down here just now. She didn’t mind rats. They were like big mice.

But it wasn’t a rat. It wasn’t the man with the dark eyes and hair either. It was a big, bald-headed man wearing golden earrings with tiny crucifixes dangling from the small gold hoops. The man held a finger to his lips as their eyes met in the half-gloom. His lips moved.

Shh, Layla. Keep quiet.

Layla stared at the man. He was ugly but he had nice eyes, kind eyes. Probably, Layla decided,
he wasn’t a man at all. He was probably an angel, Mummy had told her that she had a guardian angel and that the angel looked after her. Layla had begun to doubt that, just a little. But here the angel was, shushing her. Saying that everything would be all right.

The angel was coming closer.

But what if he
wasn’t
an angel?

What if he was a bad person, like those other bad people?

She opened her mouth; she was going to scream.

The angel put his hand over her mouth, shook his head.

No, Layla, keep quiet, it’s all right, it’s all going to be okay
, he mouthed.

And then there were more loud noises, bangs and things, and that funny smell that guns made when they went off, and Layla buried her face in the big man’s neck and tried not to cry. When she dared to look up, she could see someone moving behind him, someone approaching fast. Someone big and dark and strong. Her eyes widened in alarm but she couldn’t tell the man, because his hand was still over her mouth. She couldn’t tell him there was danger.

Una came at Annie like a thing possessed. Annie just had time to fish in her pocket and to think,
Oh fuck, I ain’t got the kiyoga
, when Una crashed into her like a ton of bricks, punching, kicking and biting.

Annie fell back, arms up, blows raining down on her from all directions.

Una was bigger and stronger than her and she was enraged. Annie was driven back against the hall wall. A stunning blow caught her on the side of the head and she saw stars. She lost her footing and slid down the wall, dazed, disorientated. She saw Una looming over her, saw Una’s booted foot coming in, swinging in slow motion towards her stomach, and she tried to double over, to protect herself from the blow, but still there was terrible pain, it exploded hotly in her midriff and she screwed her face up in agony.

Rib
, thought Annie, nausea flooding into her throat.
Has she broken my fucking rib?

Una was coming in for a second kick.

Fuck it
, thought Annie. She knew that Una’s boot had only to catch her in the wrong spot and she could bleed internally, bleed to death, in less time than it took to say knife.

Knife.

In the kitchen, there would be knives. If only she could reach the kitchen.

Which she couldn’t.

Annie tried to stand up but wobbled on her feet like a newborn lamb.

Una’s kick landed on her shin.

Bitch.

Annie fell to her knees, turning her body into the wall to shield it from Una’s punches and kicks.

Una was screaming, calling her a
bitch
, a murdering fucking
bitch.

I’m dead
, thought Annie.
This is it, I’m dead.

Una pulled her leg back.

Annie sagged there and watched her do it.

Should have listened to Dolly
, she thought dimly.
Una’s not the sort to let a grudge go.

She braced herself for the next kick. There was nothing else left to do.

Tony saw Layla’s eyes widen, saw her staring over his shoulder, knew someone was coming up fast behind him. He half turned, raising the gun, trying to shield her small body with his own much larger one, and found himself staring into the black muzzle of a pistol with a strong steady arm and menacing dark eyes behind it.

‘Drop the gun,’ whispered the man.

Tony put the gun down. From up there in the hall he could hear a commotion, a woman screaming and swearing hysterically. The Boss was in trouble up there and, fuck it, now he was in trouble down
here;
his brains were about to paint this gloomy sodding hole in the ground, and the kid was going to die too.

‘Put the kid down,’ said the man.

Tony lowered Layla lightly to the ground.

‘Come here, kid,’ said Phil.

Layla bolted.

The man let out a shout and in the same instant there was a deafening noise and the gun spun away.

‘Shit!’
he roared, clutching at his bloody right hand.

Two of his fingers were gone, and Tony couldn’t have given a flying fuck for the man’s pain.

Constantine stepped out of the shadows, holding a smoking gun.

‘Watch it!’ yelled Tony, as Phil Fibbert pulled out a knife.

Annie was waiting for the next kick. It was going to hurt like crazy, and she was bracing herself to take it, or maybe to catch Una’s foot if she could, hold it, tip the crazy, despicable bitch off balance. That was her plan.

It wasn’t much of a plan, she knew that.

She felt very weak and her stomach was throbbing. Una had already done some damage. She braced herself, waiting for the kick.

It didn’t come.

Una let out a shriek of rage.

Annie looked up and saw that Aretha, six feet of solid black muscle, had come out of the lounge on hearing all the noise Una was making, and she had grabbed Una’s leg on the backswing and held it. Una was left hopping there, off balance, peering back in rage and hate at the woman now standing behind her.

‘Hey, stupid—why don’t you just pick on someone your
own
size?’ Aretha demanded, and gave Una’s leg a heavy sideways shove.

Una went flying and ended up in a tangle of arms and legs beside the kitchen door. But instead of coming back at Aretha straight away, she turned and ran into the kitchen.

Ellie and Dolly crowded out through the open lounge door. Ellie screamed when she saw what was going on in the hall. Dolly fell to her knees beside Annie, fearing she was seriously hurt.

‘Watch out, Aretha!’ yelled Annie, who was still watching Una.

But Aretha was on it. Years of beating up on willing clients had given her strength and speed, and the physique of a honed athlete. She tore after Una, and caught her before she got to the knife drawer beside the sink, bringing her down with a flying tackle.

Una was tough. She wriggled sideways, and booted Aretha in what should have been her face, but Aretha saw it coming and turned aside at the last moment so that it only caught her shoulder. Even so, it was painful. Aretha winced and let out a shout of protest. Then she clawed her way up Una’s squirming body and socked her squarely on the jaw.

Una’s head thudded back on to the hard tiled floor.
‘Bitch,’
she gasped out, and stuck her foot
in Aretha’s midriff and hauled her up so that she went flying over her head.

Aretha hit the floor hard, all the wind knocked out of her. She lay there for seconds, unable to do a thing. Una grabbed her chance to scramble up on to hands and knees and come at her again. Una belted Aretha on the jaw, but Aretha shot straight up after that and hit Una between the eyes.

Ellie came flying into the kitchen, trying to pull Una off Aretha, but Una turned and whacked her hard across the face, knocking her aside. Then she turned and socked Aretha again. This time the blow really connected. Aretha’s head spun. She fell back on to the floor and lay there, dazed.

Una saw her moment. She struck Aretha savagely again, then scrabbled above her to open the sink drawer and reach the knives inside. They were right beside the two dead bodies of Una’s brother and sister. Aretha’s leg brushed against one of them and she felt a chill as the skin on the corpse was already cooling. Hell,
she’d
be cooling too, if she didn’t stop the bitch getting a fucking carving knife out of that damned drawer…

Una’s hand fastened over a tin-opener and she brought it down viciously towards Aretha’s forehead. Aretha rolled, and the tin-opener speared her dreadlocks, pinning one to the floor. Aretha tugged, but she was nailed there. Panicking, she saw Una going for the drawer again, unable to see
what she was reaching for, but scrabbling around in there, looking for something, anything, to finish this.

Aretha grabbed Una’s arm, but her hand was slippery from the blood off the corpses. She could dimly hear Ellie screaming at Una to
stop, for God’s sake stop
, and Dolly was shouting at Ellie to fucking well
do
something. She saw the knife in Una’s hand, saw her start with the upswing, and thought,
oh shit.

Tried to get her head free again.

Couldn’t do it.

The knife was coming down.

Phil Fibbert lunged forward.

‘Christ!’ yelled Tony, grabbing Layla and shielding her with his own body.

But Constantine’s men were on it. Phil went down in a devastating hail of bullets, the knife still clutched in his hand. He crumpled into a heap and lay there, twitching and bloody on the cold concrete floor.

There was a sudden silence.

Constantine was the first to move, gathering Layla up, pulling her in tight against him so that she couldn’t see the mess that was all that was left of her kidnapper.

From above them, up in the main body of the house, they could hear women screaming and shouting.

‘Jeez,’ said Tony, and pushed past Constantine and his two helpers, tore up the stairs two at a
time past the fallen body of Darren and barrelled out into the hall.

Annie was crouching there, clutching her side. Dolly was there too, kneeling beside her, sobbing and pointing towards the kitchen. ‘Aretha!’ she screamed at him.

Tony dashed into the kitchen, slipping and nearly going down on to the cheap tatty lino in his haste.

He saw Aretha pinned down and Una straddling her with a knife in her hand, drawing back her arm to stab Aretha.

He saw Ellie there, trying to hold Una’s arm back and failing.

In one movement he pushed Ellie aside and caught Una’s arm and pulled back. The woman gave a shriek of protest, and Tony punched her hard in the face. She fell back onto the bodies of her brother and sister, groaning.

Aretha lay there, stunned, breathing hard, vaguely surprised to still be alive.

‘You okay?’ asked Tony, ripping the tin-opener out of the lino to free her dreads.

Aretha sat up, nodding shakily.

‘Mad
bitch
,’ she muttered, looking sideways at Una, who was now weeping over the bodies, clutching at her sister’s limp hand, smoothing her brother’s lifeless torso.

‘She’s finished,’ said Tony. Una looked up and
her eyes were full of hatred as she stared at him. Tony stood up and grabbed her arm, hauling her to her feet. He shook her like a dog shakes a rat.

But Una wasn’t finished yet. She swung round fast and stabbed her fingers at Tony’s eyes. He fell back with a shout, tumbling over the corpses, losing his grip on her.

‘Crazy
bitch
,’ he muttered, scrambling back to his feet, but Una was out through the back door at a run.

‘Shit,’ said Tony, and launched himself after her.

‘Tone!’ shouted Annie from the hall.

Tony stopped in the doorway. Looked back at Annie.

‘Let her go,’ said Annie. ‘For now.’

‘Fuck it all,’ said Aretha painfully. She sat up, wincing. Then her brow creased with worry as she looked at Tony. ‘You got the kid? You got Layla?’

‘She’s fine. Look.’ He indicated the open door into the hallway.

Aretha looked, and started to smile through her pain.

Constantine had emerged from the cellar carrying Layla.

Incredulously, Annie stumbled to her feet.

‘Layla? Baby?’ she whispered, hardly able to believe it.

Layla looked at her mother crossly. ‘Mummy, where have you
been
!’ she demanded.

A wild laugh escaped Annie.
In hell
, she thought.
I’ve been in hell and now I’m out of it.

Layla held out her arms to Annie.

Annie took her daughter in her arms, not caring that it hurt her ribs, and hugged her tight, and kissed her.

‘You’re squeezing me too hard, Mummy,’ objected Layla.

‘Sorry, sweetheart,’ mumbled Annie against Layla’s neck.

She caught Layla’s hand, looked at the bandage there, where her daughter’s tiny finger should be. Her face clouded.

‘Oh, my poor sweet baby. Does it hurt?’ she moaned, wishing she could have spared Layla this.

Layla shook her head. ‘No, it itches.’

‘That means it’s getting better,’ said Dolly, smiling shakily at the little girl.

‘I don’t like those people,’ said Layla. ‘They’re nasty.’

Annie looked at Constantine over Layla’s silky dark head.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘We’ll get her checked over,’ he said. ‘But she looks fine. You okay?’

Annie nodded. Her ribs hurt but she didn’t give a fuck. She had Layla back.

‘I owe you,’ she said.
And I didn’t believe in you, not for an instant.

She felt bad about that now. Worse than bad.

She had thought that Constantine was stringing her along, intent only on using her as a sex object, uncaring of her daughter’s plight.

She’d been wrong. She could see that now.

All the time, while she’d been stumbling around trying to find answers, feeling desperate, bewildered, barely able to function, Constantine had had his people working steadily toward this moment, when she would be reunited with Layla, her beloved daughter, her little star.

Layla was peering over her shoulder at Constantine, her eyes bright with interest.

‘You’re pretty,’ she told him.

Annie laughed and hugged her hard.

‘Well, at least I’ve found favour with
one
of the Carter women,’ said Constantine with a wry smile, picking up his coat and dusting it off.

‘Where’s Daddy?’ asked Layla.

The laughter died in Annie’s throat. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She looked at Constantine. His smile was gone. He pulled on his coat, saying nothing.

Ellie had moved to the top of the cellar steps and was looking down, her face a picture of misery.

‘Oh God, Darren…’ she muttered, and went back down the steps.

Dolly followed, and Aretha.

Annie stood there looking anxiously after them,
holding Layla. She looked at Constantine. He shook his head and held open his arms.

‘I’ll take her,’ he said.

‘Mummy…’ whined Layla as Annie made to hand her over.

‘It’s okay, sweetheart, stay with the nice man just for a moment while Mummy does something important,’ said Annie.

Layla allowed herself to be transferred into the stronger, surer arms of Constantine Barolli.

With a new dread in her heart, Annie followed Dolly and Aretha. Constantine’s men were still down in the cellar, tidying up the remains of Phil Fibbert. Ellie was a quarter of the way down the cellar steps, kneeling beside the crumpled form of Darren. She looked up, face streaked with tears, as the three other women came down.

‘He looked back at me when he was coming down here,’ she said to them all. ‘He had a look on his face…like he was saying, “Oh well, may as well go out with a bang…” Oh Darren, you bloody fool.’

She started to sob.

Dolly looked hopelessly at Annie. They all clustered around him. He was still breathing, but weakly. His torso was a bloody, mangled mess.

‘We’ll get an ambulance…’ said Aretha.

‘Don’t you fucking dare,’ whispered Darren.

They all fell silent.

His eyes flickered open. He looked up at Dolly, Aretha, Annie, and at Ellie who was in floods of tears.

‘Don’t c-cry you daft mare,’ he said faintly. ‘Better this way.’

Darren knew he was dying. They’d all known that the wasting disease was going to take him one day, and it would be a long, slow, painful process—much worse than this.

Annie thought that Darren was right. It really was better this way. He’d done this reckless, heroic thing and they all had to be proud of him for it. He’d charged in to save Layla, knowing that his own life might be the forfeit. It was better to go for it than to just hang around, waiting for death to sneak up on you.

But still, Annie felt the grief cutting into her like a razor-edged knife.

Darren had been a good friend: the best. They had been through so much together, all five of them. And now it was time to say goodbye.

She leaned in close to him, knowing that this was all down to her; that Darren was dying because of her, because of Layla.

‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ she asked him.

‘Can’t think of a damned thing,’ he said, and gave a weak ghost of his usual cheery smile. Then the smile faded and he winced and coughed. Blood
sprang to his lips. Ellie wiped it away with a corner of her cardigan.

‘Don’t try to talk,’ said Dolly, distraught.

‘Won’t have the…chance much longer,’ he said, grimacing.

‘It’s okay,’ said Dolly, her voice cracking with emotion. ‘Just rest, just try and rest…’

‘Yeah, what made you think you could charge in here and act the bloody hero anyway?’ asked Aretha, but the harsh words were softened by a tone of love. There were tears on her cheeks. She was going to miss him like crazy. They all were.

‘You’re only jealous…because you didn’t get the…chance to do it,’ whispered Darren, and started coughing again. He closed his eyes.

‘Shh,’ said Dolly soothingly.

Darren’s blue eyes opened. They looked around vaguely, as if he couldn’t see too well. They fastened on Annie’s face.

‘There is something,’ he mumbled.

‘Name it,’ said Annie. ‘Anything.’

Darren told her. Annie nodded, and tried to smile at him. ‘It’s done,’ she assured him.

‘And so am I, my darlings…’ sighed Darren, closing his eyes again.

‘You’re such a fucking drama queen,’ cried Aretha.

‘Yeah, that’s me…’ He coughed again, wincing with pain. ‘Oh…fuck…’

‘Shh,’ said Dolly, her face fraught as she smoothed his brow with her hand, giving him whatever comfort she could.

Darren stopped coughing, his breath wheezing out, all the tension seeming to drain out of him.

He didn’t breathe in.

They watched him. Nothing.

Annie put her hand to his neck. There was no pulse.

Darren was gone.