He kept his sidelines private so Marie had no knowledge of what went on here late at night, and that suited them both. Alan was in over his head there and he knew it. But the money was phenomenal.
Marie had the computer up and running and also had everything but his private business on disk. It was great to come in and see her sitting there in her black suit. She was easy to be around. Unlike most of the women of his acquaintance, she didn’t feel the urge to talk all the time. His ex-wife Beverley could talk for the Olympics and get the gold. It was one of the things he had eventually hated about her.
He liked the way Marie was quiet, in her voice and demeanour. He was pleased he had employed her. He only hoped he could pass over all the legal, stuff to her soon and then he could get on with his other businesses in peace. This place was a good front and he knew it.
‘You had a few parcels turn up.’
He nodded.
‘I’ve been expecting them, Marie. Where are they?’
‘I put them in the back office. I know it’s none of my business but they have “Medical Supplies” written on them.’
Alan frowned. ‘Do they?’
He walked into the back office and cursed his associate in France who was so thick he thought he could get away with that scam in a scrapyard.
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‘Leave it with me, Marie. I’ll sort it out. Now have you mastered the overseas stuff yet? Africa is one of our biggest money sp inners and I have a batch of fridges to go there in the next few days.’
He shook his head sagely.
‘Amazing, really. All our old crap is recycled out there. Makes you think, don’t it? In a few months that scrap will be up and running again and people will be buying it hand over fist. All the shit we dump, they love. There’s money in rubbish, love. Big money.’
Marie smiled.
‘It’s certainly been an eye opener for me.’
She was always polite to him. He liked that about her. She called people ‘sir’ when they called, and she had a deep sexy voice that sounded great over the phone. Two men he had dealt with for years wanted to know where the hell he had found her and were convinced he was shagging her. He let them think it. He wasn’t about to lose her to more money.
The strange thing was, where her past should hinder her, in his game it was a help. Everyone he dealt with had had their collar felt or had done real time so she was just like one of the lads. Except for those great big tits, of course, but he wasn’t looking at them now as often as he had been and felt that was an advance in itself.
‘I’m putting your money up from next month, Marie. Seven-fifty an hour. You’ve earned it, love.’
She just smiled and looked at him.
‘Thank you. I really need to get myself sorted. I might be able to get a flat in another few months if I start saving.’
He cleared his throat noisily. When she talked about what she might be able to do it always made him feel bad. He couldn’t for the life of him imagine what it must be like to have to watch yourself twenty-four hours a day. It had occurred to him that her presence might lead to Old Bill poking about, but he didn’t have so much as a parking ticket outstanding so that wasn’t a real worry. He knew that any checks on her would have been done by now and the fact that he had heard nothing spoke volumes. Anyway he enjoyed sailing close to the wind, it was in his nature.
The mate rents out places. I’ll see what I can do, OK?’
She was saved from answering by the door opening. A short copper-blonde woman came bursting into the confined space.
‘Hello, love, all right?’
She smiled at Marie in a friendly fashion, all Elizabeth Arden and expensive perfume.
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‘You must be the new girl. I’m Beverley - you can call me Bev. I’ll be on the phone a lot so it’s best we’re mates, eh?’
She laughed loudly and Marie saw that for the first time her boss was not his usual jovial self.
‘If he shakes your hand count your bleeding fingers and check your rings, right? He’s about as trustworthy as a fucking starving yeti.’
Bev turned on her ex-husband then.
‘Where’s me money? The kids’ school fees are due and that bleeding nun is giving me grief.’
He grinned good-naturedly.
‘Oh Beverley, light of my life. Been to evening classes again, have we? How to make the best of a limited personality?’
Beverley laughed.
‘One thing I will give you, Al, you are a crack. Now, money or your nuts ripped off. It’s your choice, sweetie.’
Alan shook his head and tried not to laugh.
‘Cheque book it is then.’
‘You know it makes sense.’ She turned to Marie. ‘How do you stand it here with him? Miserable fucker he is. Mind you, it smells better. Still bring your little tarts here of a night, do you, Al? He keeps the slag population in leggings and home perms, don’t you, darling?’
Alan ignored her and Marie watched, fascinated by a woman with so much confidence she didn’t care what she said or who she said it to.
‘Christ, but he has had some rough ones! Don’t let him sweet talk you, my love. He’d shag a fence in the right light.’
‘All right, Beverley, give it a rest now. Remember what the judge said.’
She took the cheque.
‘He said if I didn’t keep quiet he would have me removed from court. But that was when you was up for trying to get out of your maintenance payments, darling. Nothing to do with the divorce, was it?’
She kissed the piece of paper in her hand.
‘Jessica needs a new horse as well. I’ll send you the bill, OK? And don’t forget to pick them up on Saturday early. I’ve got a date with a man.’
‘Where did you find him then, Bev? Rent a Coma dating agency?’
She laughed again.
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‘I’ll chalk one up to you this time, Al.’ She turned to Marie. ‘Ta-ra, love. Remember what I said.’
Then she was gone and the office seemed very small and quiet after she’d left.
‘Sorry about that.’
Marie started to laugh. It was a high-pitched sound that was almost hysterical in its intensity. She laughed for a full five minutes. Alan watched as she wiped her eyes with a tissue. Tears were streaming down her face.
‘I’m so sorry, but she is a scream.’
Alan laughed with her. He realised this was the first time she had really laughed in years and for once was glad ofBeverley’s big trap.
When Marie had finished laughing she looked different somehow. Looser.
‘You want to try living with her,’ Alan growled. ‘Do you know what she done once? I was seeing a little bird from Romford. Nice she was … thick as two short planks but nice. Beveriey only went round her mum and dad’s. She was waiting there when I dropped the girl off. I nearly died.’
Marie started laughing again.
‘There I was in their living room with their only daughter, and me wife chatting away like she was a longlost relative. But that’s Bev. What you see is what you get.’
‘I liked her, Alan.’
He smiled ruefully.
‘So did I, once. In fact I loved her. But she couldn’t cope with me and me philandering ways, as she put it so succinctly to the divorce court. Her constant talking drove me fucking mental and all. Now she calls me Cheque Book Charlie to me face.’
Marie made them both a coffee.
‘Thanks for giving me a chance with the job, Mr Jarvis.’
Even her voice sounded brighter than before.
‘You are an asset, Marie. If you can cope with Beveriey, you can cope with anything. But there is one thing. Can you call me Alan? Every time you say “Mr Jarvis” I think me dad’s outside.’
Marie didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure how to answer. It was so long since she had practised the niceties of everyday living it was hard to know what to say.
But Beverley Jarvis had been like a breath of fresh air and Marie would be grateful to her till she died for breaking the ice like she had and making her laugh out loud. It had felt strange, odd, to be
54
laughing again. But she had enjoyed it. That was the great thing, she had really enjoyed it.
Kevin stood nervously outside the halfway house. As women walked in and out he felt they were all staring at him. He moved along the road so he could watch the doorway unobserved. His nervousness was caused mostly by the thought that his wife would launch him into outer space if she knew where he was.
As Marie walked along the pavement his breath caught in his chest. She looked beautiful. There was no mistaking her. She had that proud bearing. Even drugged out of her brains she still seemed to be looking down her nose at the world.
Her long legs were shown off to advantage by the black pencil skirt of the suit she wore, which was fitted and made her look almost school-marmish in its severity. But Marie was a big sexy woman and nothing she did could ever really hide that fact. His mother had once said, Then will love her or hate her, and the same with women.’
Marie was too good-looking for her own good.
He blamed himself for the way she had turned out. Himself and his wife. He had loved his eldest daughter too much, her mother had loved her too little.
As he walked towards her he raised his hand in greeting. He saw the look on his daughter’s face turn from confusion to joy and was glad he had come. It was the look she had given him as a child when he came in from work and stood up for her against her mother. A look of joy tinged with relief.
‘Dad?’
Her voice was different, quieter.
‘Marie. You look well, love.’
It was the right thing to say.
‘How did you find me?’
They stared at each other for long moments.
‘I rang Old Bill. They told me where you were, being your father, like …’
The cold was cutting into her bones but she didn’t know where to take him. It was after six and she had to be in by six-thirty. For the first time this irked her. Suddenly she wanted to go out for the evening. Catch up on old times. Be herself.
‘Come in with me and we’ll have a coffee, eh?’
Kevin nodded.
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‘That would be lovely.’
He hugged her then. It was a spontaneous gesture and she hugged him back, awkwardly at first until she relaxed. They laughed together. She felt the tears then and swallowed them down. After thirteen years, close human contact seemed at odds with what she had become accustomed to and tears burned her eyes.
‘Oh Dad, it’s so good to see you.’
As they walked into the building they were so wrapped up in one another that neither of them saw Lucy standing across the road, a look of complete revulsion on her face.
Anastasia had the demons in her. She had cried literally all day and nothing was right for her. At thirteen months she was at a stroppy age and Tiffany was tired after her night on drink and drugs. She’d wanted to obliterate that scene with her new boss. Now she was paying the price.
As the child picked up a cup of cold coffee and poured it on to the carpet Tiffany lashed out. It was a hard smack and caught the little girl unawares. She screamed with fright and pain. Immediately, Tiffany was cuddling her.
‘Mummy’s sorry. Mummy’s sorry,’ she repeated over and over again.
Anastasia clung to her, hot tears pouring down her face and making her hair damp. Tiffany had never felt so bad in her life but the day had been so long. Every time she thought of what she had done last night she felt sick inside.
She cradled the child in her arms, whispering to her and trying to make the little girl feel better. Eventually Anastasia went to sleep, still giving occasional little hiccoughing cries. As her mother laid her gently in her cot she realised the full extent of her responsibilities. The thought that her temper had got the better of her like that and made her hurt her own child filled her with such guilt and self-loathing she wanted to die.
The flat was quiet. Too quiet.
Normally Pat would have been round by now and Tiffany realised she had come to rely on seeing him. She had no real friends, her years in care had seen to that. Any friends she had made then she didn’t mix with now. Didn’t want to be reminded of what her early life had been like. So it was a lonely existence for her. Carole would have been welcome, because she had known Carole all her life and didn’t have to pretend to be something she wasn’t with her. But she 56
knew she wouldn’t see her mother’s old friend for a while.
Tiffany rolled herself a joint and smoked it until she felt calmer. The babysitter would be coming soon and she had to get ready for her first night’s work. The thought of leaving the child after smacking her made her feel even guiltier. But she got ready anyway.
She wanted to really earn tonight to prove to herself that she was doing the right thing. Had done the right thing the night before.
She gently stroked her daughter’s brow and then went and got
ready.
An hour later she was sitting on the bus in a heavy coat, dressed like a schoolgirl underneath and feeling ridiculous. But the money was uppermost in her mind. She suppressed every other emotion. Especially the guilt and the shame.
Louise dished up in her usual haphazard fashion. As Kevin sipped a scalding hot cup of tea he glanced over at Lucy and caught the look she was giving him.
‘All right, love?’
His voice was concerned.
‘Why shouldn’t I be?’
She sounded sullen.
‘Who you talking to?’ Louise’s voice was sharp and she stopped serving to look daggers at her youngest daughter.
Lucy stared at her mother in confusion. She wanted to blow her father right out of the water but knew she couldn’t. Not yet. Not until she had done her dirty deed for Karen Black.
‘I’m tired.’
It sounded lame even in her own ears.
Louise slammed the saucepan on to the table.
‘We’re all bleeding tired! What makes you think you’re any more tired than me or your father? He’s out by six most mornings.’
‘Since that bitch was paroled this house has been like a bloody morgue. She ain’t even in it but we’re all paying the price anyway.’
Lucy looked at her father as she spoke and he averted his eyes.
Louise, however, thought her daughter was now the fountain of wisdom.