Faceless (27 page)

He was breathing heavily, his blue eyes with the glazed look that was usual for Devlin these days. He was coked out of his brains and it showed. His heavy body heaved from his exertions and his head glistened with sweat. He looked the bully boy that he was.

Davey dragged the unconscious man towards his Lexus. He was shaking with fear. Mikey was going off more and more lately, for the most trivial reasons.

‘What was all that about?’

Mikey didn’t answer but walked into the Portakabin. Alan followed him warily. Mikey was cutting himself a line within seconds. As he snorted it he brought his head up and closed his eyes.

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‘He’s grassed us up. That little cunt grassed us up.’

Alan felt his face drain of colour, so acute was the fear.

‘Grassed us up?’

Devlin nodded. Then, seeing Alan’s face, he started to laugh.

‘Not to the filth, you prat. He’s discussed us with the fucking coons in Brixton. Larry Marker told me this morning. He was approached by them to do a drop.’

Alan was nonplussed.

‘What’s wrong with that?’

Devlin looked at him as if he was a lunatic.

‘What’s wrong with that? Are you fucking stupid or something?’

Alan didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure what to say.

‘He arranged a drop but never mentioned it to me, did he? So that is two fucking bastard things he’s done, ain’t it? One he gave them an in on what we are doing, and two the ponce was going to fuck me up.’

Alan didn’t answer. Devlin had lost it big time and this fact alone terrified him. He finally took a deep breath and said, ‘He told you about it, Mikey. You gave him a drink, remember? Last weekend, right here in this yard.’

Devlin’s face was a picture as he tried to remember.

Then he shook his head like a mad dog and shouted, ‘Did I fuck? What you trying to do, Jarvis, fucking wind me up or what?’

He was bellowing now.

‘You taking the piss? You stuck up his arse or something? Is he your bum chum?’

Alan closed his eyes and hoped against hope that when he opened them the man in front of him would somehow have disappeared.

‘For fuck’s sake, Mikey, calm down before we have Old Bill on the doorstep.’

As he spoke Marie walked into the cabin.

‘You can hear you two shouting down the road.’

‘Who are you?’

Devlin’s voice was calmer now.

‘I’m Marie, Alan’s secretary, and you are?’

Mikey stared at her intently for a few seconds before saying, ‘you have a secretary, Jarvis? Is this a piss take?’

Marie raised her eyebrows slightly.

‘This is a business, a scrap business. I have to have someone to do me books and that so the taxman don’t come sniffing round,’ Alan told him.

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The logic of the argument and Alan’s deliberate way of talking penetrated the coke-induced haze. Mikey nodded and Marie could see him physically fighting to calm himself. Finally he forced a smile and walked from the office. She felt the tension seep from the room at his departure.

When she heard his car screech off she looked at Alan and said calmly, ‘You bloody fool. What are you involved with now?’

Louise was in a haze of pain but she would not let it get the better of her. The strength she had always prided herself on served her well as she fought her way to health. The nurses and doctors were amazed by her. She hardly grimaced at the constant changes of dressings and only took morphine when the pain was overwhelming. But they didn’t know that what kept her going was pure hatred.

Marshall’s whole existence had been destroyed once more by Marie. Louise had only a few photos left of him now and she took that very personally.

The loss of the house and everything in it was as nothing to her. But her son’s clothes were gone. His childish toys and paintings. Little stories he had written at school. All gone. And it was Marie’s fault. Louise’s husband had walked away from her, had taken her side as usual. Marie had always had her father in the palm of her hand and it would never change. Louise was better off without him. As she was better off without her daughter. The shame of Marie’s prison sentence had been hard to bear but she had held her head up high and if anyone asked after her daughter would give them a look that should have floored them and kept silent. People had soon learned she had disowned her eldest child.

She tried to clench her fingers underneath the covers but the pain reminded her that she had to keep still. Stop moving around. She breathed deeply. Stilled the erratic beating of her heart. She might be a medical miracle, but that was nothing as far as she was concerned. She wanted out of here and into the world again.

Then she would pay them all back one hundredfold for everything that had happened. She had seen her bitch of a daughter off once and she would do it again.

Marie had tried to drag Marshall into her dirty life but her mother had stopped her. And she would stop her. Marshall had been as disgusted with Marie as her mother was. Having those bloody kids, humiliating the family over and over again. They were

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respectable yet Marie had dragged them into the dirt as if it meant nothing. Every time Louise thought of how her daughter had taunted her, the pain was as fresh all these years later as it had been at the time.

That deep voice of hers that sounded like a whore’s. ‘Oh Mum, get a life. Who cares what the fucking neighbours think about me? I don’t, so why should you?’

But Louise did care, she cared deeply what people thought about her. She had to run the gauntlet at the gates, at the shops, even at church. It was the pitying looks she had hated more than anything.

Other women with daughters, good girls who kept themselves to themselves and didn’t give their bodies to any man with a pleasing smile and a few pills, looked at her with such sorrow she could have beaten them to the ground. She didn’t want their sympathy. She was better than them, better than them all.

She went to Mass every morning of her life, took communion, she was clean. It was her daughter who was tainted, not her. It was Marie who had made them into a laughing stock. Marie who had dragged their name through the dirt. Had taken her family and destroyed it without a second’s thought.

She stopped the tears from flowing, enjoying her own strength and mental stamina. Enjoying the hatred because it kept her going.

Once she was out of this bed she would stop that bitch once and for all. Of that she was determined.

‘Wake up, love.’

The voice was penetrating and Tiffany struggled to open her eyes. Patrick was staring down at her, looking concerned.

‘You all right. Tiff? I’ve been worried out of me mind.’

She blinked at him a few times before she croaked, ‘Where am I?’

Patrick kissed her tenderly on the forehead before he answered.

‘You’re in hospital. Tiff. Don’t you remember?’

She shook her head and the action made her wince. Her pretty face was grey and haggard, her eyes like a dead fish’s. There was no life in her any more. The Librium he had dosed her with had left her with no memory of what had happened to her.

‘You took an accidental overdose, Tiff, though they think you tried to top yourself. One of the neighbours heard the baby screaming and called the police. They’ve took Anastasia away, love. Social Services.’

As Tiffany took in what he was saying to her she pulled her lips

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back over her teeth. Before she could scream he had placed one hand over her mouth to quiet her.

‘Shhh! Listen, Tiff, they’ll do you for child neglect and endangering the baby. They’re going to nick you, sweetheart. I told them I didn’t know what they were talking about but they won’t listen to me, will they? I said what a good mum you was and that. But someone has stuck the knife in, love. Probably one of the neighbours.’

Tiffany’s world was tumbling around her ears and Patrick watched her with morbid fascination. She believed everything he said. That fact pleased him. On another level she disgusted him with her weakness. He hated weakness even though he played on it in everyone he came into contact with.

‘What am I going to do. Pat? Poor Anastasia, she’ll be so frightened without me.’

‘Put this coat on and these shoes and we’ll just walk out of here before Old Bill arrives. Then I’ll get you a good brief, OK? I’ll sort it out, I promise. She’s my kid and all, you know.’

He sounded so sincere she believed him. She allowed him to help her sit up and drink a glass of water, then he put on her coat and shoes and they walked sedately from the busy ward and out of the hospital.

It had been so easy.

In Patrick’s BMW she broke down crying and he petted her as he would have done a puppy or a kitten. She was absolutely in pieces and this knowledge made him feel powerful and in control. On the way to his flat he stopped and picked up wages from girls and lumps of cash from his dealers.

Business went on no matter what happened. Tiffany understood that so didn’t wonder at a man who was still carrying on his nefarious enterprises while supposedly distraught over the loss of his little daughter.

He gave her a medicinal rock and she sagged against the leather upholstery of the car and felt her body relax and her mind empty.

‘That’s the way to go. Tiff. Put it all out of your mind for a while and chill, girl.’

She smiled tentatively and drew the smoke into her lungs once more. If ever she’d needed a lift it was now.

Patrick dumped her at his flat in Docklands and, after warning her not to burn the carpets or make a mess, left her to go about his daily business.

He had a living to earn as he frequently pointed out, and now

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they had the court case to get the baby back he needed as much poke as he could get. Tiffany was grateful and it showed.

As he kissed her goodbye he said quietly, ‘Have a bath, Tiff. You fucking stink, love.’

She nodded sadly and watched him walk away from her when she needed him more than ever.

She clutched the small bag of rocks Patrick had given her and sighed heavily. One hit to get her head together and then she would plan what she was going to do. Alone in the big apartment overlooking the Thames she felt lost. She wanted her little girl and Anastasia was gone, taken from her like everything had been all her life, starting with the loss of her mother and culminating in the loss of her child.

Tiffany was completely obliterated by crack within fifteen minutes of Patrick walking out on her.

Petey Black was locking the door on his D-reg Ford Sierra when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

He froze in fear and terror.

‘All right, Pete? Burned anyone’s house down today?’

Kevin Carter’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.

Petey turned around, eyes scanning the street to see if he could do a runner.

‘No escape, mate. I made sure of that.’

Kevin’s voice was almost friendly.

‘It was nothing to do with us, Kev. I swear on me mother’s grave, mate. It was that mad bitch Karen. You know what she’s like. I told her and all…’

‘Shut the fuck up!’

Petey saw the shotgun. It registered instantly as Kevin took it out of a Sainsbury’s carrier. He shook his head in disbelief.

‘Leave it out, Kev. What the fuck you doing, man?’

Kevin laughed.

‘What does it look like? I’m going to shoot you.’

Petey finally realised that this man was over the edge. Completely over the edge. His face crumpled and he started crying. Petey heard the loud click as Kevin cocked the gun and put his hands to his face instinctively.

Then a voice came from nearby.

‘What’s going on?’

It was an old voice, querulous, and Kevin swore under his breath,

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turned and walked away quickly. Petey collapsed on to the pavement. His legs felt as if they had completely turned to jelly.

He was still crying when his motherin-law found him outside the house an hour later. She took him inside. She had his stuff packed and was ready to say her goodbyes. When she’d finally got the full story from her son-in-law Rita sat smoking in her favourite chair and cursed her own daughter over and over again. Bethany’s daughter Tamara cried, convinced she was going to get hurt as well because it was her mother’s death that had started off this chain of events.

‘I hate Karen, Nana, I really hate her! I just want to be here quietly with you. I hated living with Mum and her men and the drugs. I hated it when men sat me on their laps and petted me and told me what a lovely little girl I was. I hated her for letting them do it. Marie Carter done me a fucking favour!’

Even her Nana couldn’t answer that one.

Sally Potter knocked gently on Marie’s door then opened it and walked inside. Marie was lying on her bed in a towelling dressing gown.

‘How are you?’ Sally asked.

She shrugged.

‘OK, I suppose, considering.’ ‘

Sally sat on the bed and smiled, her round face over made-up as usual even though she was about to go to bed.

‘I’m still working, you know. On the streets. Can’t seem to keep away from it, can I?’

Marie felt sad for her but didn’t show it.

‘If they find out, you’re straight back inside, you know that.’

‘Maybe I want that deep down and just won’t admit it. I felt I belonged in nick. I was there so long I had a good network of friends and companions. I feel lost out here. I think I went back on the game to feel I was in a familiar environment, with people who accept me for who and what I am.’

‘Want a cup of tea?’

‘You stay there, I’ll get it.’

While Marie waited she wondered why Sally had picked tonight of all nights to open up to her. They knew each other’s past form so she assumed it was because she had been a prostitute that Sally felt she could talk to her. People out of the game never understood the power it had over the women involved. For most it was a form of 186

self-hatred. For others it was a substitute family. For the majority a means to an end.

Ten minutes later they were sitting side by side on the bed and talking as if they had known each other all their lives.