Goodnight Lady (39 page)

‘I think I’ll get another quack in to our Eileen in the morning, Mum. There’s a bloke from up West, Scottish name, treats Lord Palmer’s son for shell shock. He’s the best in his field for mental illness.’

Molly nodded but kept her peace. Only rich people could afford nerves and mental illness. She believed still that the devil made work for idle hands. In Molly’s eyes a good day’s work looking after a few kids and a husband and house was more than sufficient to keep a woman from thinking. Thinking was a bad thing. Too much time for thought and you started sickening.

‘I’ve asked around and about. It seems Joshua has an uncle in Islington, I’m going there later. Kevin Carter’s out now with a couple of others tracking him down. If he’s there we’ll find him. I’ve got to shut his trap up in some way. But the main thing at the moment is our Eileen. Getting her better if we can. Though I think, eventually, she’ll have to go away.’

Molly nodded again.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Mum, have a go at me, fight me, but don’t keep being so bloody passive, it don’t suit you. If you’ve anything to say, any thoughts on all this, say them! I can’t stand you quiet, it’s unnatural!’

Molly opened her eyes wide and nodded once more, infuriating Briony even further.

‘God give me strength!’

‘Oh, he’s given you that, Bri. He’s given you enough already for ten men.’

Briony laughed gently.

‘Oh, it can speak then?’

‘I can. It’s whether or not you’re interested in what I have to say?’ There was a semblance of Molly’s old spirit as she spoke and Briony was pleased.

‘Mum, think about this. When did any of us ever listen to you anyway? That never shut you up before, did it?’

Molly grinned then. Briony was joking, she was over the worst, the sun was out and everything was going to be all right. Briony would look after them all. The weight was lifted from Molly’s shoulders and she could relax again.

 

Kevin stood uncertainly in front of Tommy Lane.

‘If she knew I knew where you were, Tommy, there’d be murders.’

‘I know that, Kev, and I appreciate you telling me everything. Is Briony all right like, in herself?’

‘Oh, yeah. Well, I mean, she seems all right. But I think all this with her sister has shocked her more than she’d ever admit. You know Briony, she’s more close-mouthed than the government.’

Tommy smiled in spite of himself.

‘True. So Joshua has something over her, has he? Well, ain’t he the brave bastard! Milk and water, I booked him. Wouldn’t say boo to a mouse on a mortuary slab. Well, we live and fucking learn, don’t we? Still, don’t worry, Kev, I’ll find the ponce and sort him out. In fact, me and you can go and see this bible basher now. Maybe I’ll get a bit more out of him than you did.’

‘Suits me, Tommy. I just want to give Briony a break. Her sister’s bad, I saw her meself. She’s ill, mate. That bloke’s worked her over and all, black and blue her arms were. But he never touched her boat race. Well, he wouldn’t, would he? What a turn up, eh?’ He shook his head in silent disgust.

‘Sit down and I’ll get changed. Help yourself to a drink.’

Tommy left the room and walked up the stairs of his new house in Stratford. As he entered the bedroom a female voice said, ‘Are you coming back to bed, Tommy?’

Shirley Darling, as she was called, held out one long slim arm towards him. He smiled.

‘Sorry, Shirl, but business beckons. Get yourself dressed and trundle off now. There’s a good girl.’

Shirley sat up in bed, the sheet dropping away to reveal enormous breasts. ‘Oh, Tommy! Can’t I wait for you to come home later?’

‘Nope! Dressed and home for you, young lady. I’m busy.’ He pulled on his clothes with a nonchalant air.

‘You’re a wanker, Tommy Lane!’

He laughed out loud. ‘Very ladylike, I must say.’

Shirley, who really liked Tommy, had always liked him and had been over the moon to climb into his bed, was upset that he was dismissing her like a two-bob tart. Her eyes screwed up and she said, ‘You are a wanker. As for me being ladylike, I’m no more ladylike than Big Briony, as they call her. They also call her the Poison Dwarf, did you know that? What’s the matter, Tommy? Frightened she’ll find out I’ve been here and little Tommy Lane’s been a naughty boy? Scared of her, are you?’

She froze as he yanked her from the bed by her arm. He ran her across the room and into the dressing room where her clothes were neatly folded on a chair.

‘Get dressed and fuck off. As for Briony, you ain’t even fit to walk on the same bit of pavement as her. Now take your stuff, take your big fucking trap, and piss off!’

Shirley sat on a chair naked, and rubbed at her arm. ‘You hurt me!’

Tommy made a tragic face. ‘NO! I never, did I? If you’re not careful I might just tell Briony what I’ve been doing all afternoon. Now if she frightens me, what must that thought do to you, eh?’

He left the room but as he walked down the stairs felt a wave of temper wash over him. So people thought he was scared of Briony, did they? Then he smiled. The Poison Dwarf! Briony would laugh if she heard that one. Collecting Kevin, he left the house, Shirley never once entering his thoughts. Unlike Briony, she was over and done with.

 

Padraig O’Connor was a thin wiry Irishman with burnished red hair, a red bushy beard, and large rough hands. Not a tall man, only five foot four, he gave the impression of great strength in his compact, tightly muscled body. His deep-set blue eyes had the glint of a man on the verge of religious mania.

Padraig went into the lowest of pubs and drinking establishments, giving out the word of the Lord. He knew his bible backwards and forwards, believing in the pure and simple sanctity of living your life by the word of God, the ten commandments and
Leviticus.
He drank only water, Adam’s Ale, and ate simple foods. He also worked hard as a coal man, delivering the sacks everywhere, his hands and back ingrained with coal dust, a sign to the world that he toiled hard at good honest work. Drunks, women of the night and local priests ducked into corners and under hedges when they saw him coming. As Father Kennedy had once remarked, the man could make a top of the morning sound like a declaration of war.

Padraig was in The Green Man, his bible open at
Leviticus,
regaling the rather drunken customers with the Lord’s words on bestiality.

‘“Thou shalt not lie down with the beasts of the field.”’

A big burly docker shouted out, ‘I’ll agree with you there, mate, but what if your old woman looks like the fucking back end of a bullock? What then, eh?’

Everyone laughed. A tiny man with horn-rimmed glasses, carried away with drink and camaraderie, shouted out: ‘Your old woman sounds like the back end of a bullock! She’s got more mouth than a cow’s got...’

The docker stopped laughing immediately and, turning to the man who’d insulted his wife, said: ‘Do you want a bunch of fives or what?’

The little man’s head disappeared into his glass of ale and the docker looked around him for anyone who fancied having another go about his wife.

Padraig O’Connor carried on regardless, his words delivered in a loud voice, his whole demeanour taut and intense. He believed every word he said and couldn’t for the life of him understand how no one else could gain the enjoyment from the bible that he did.

The smoky atmosphere was burning his eyes and throat. He coughed loudly and the barman pushed a pint of beer on to the counter.

‘Go on, man, drink that. It’ll cool you down.’

Padraig shook his head.

‘A glass of water will be sufficient, thank you.’

The barman got him his water, and handing it to him, said, ‘Drink that and go. They’re laughing at you, can’t you see that?’

Tommy Lane and Kevin Carter walked into The Green Man. One look at the man at the bar drinking down a glass of water and they knew they’d struck gold. They stood watching as he started his preaching once more.

‘“Thou shalt not lie with mankind as with womankind, it is abomination!” I see this all the time. Round the docks, men dressed as women, men looking for other men, like painted harlots!’

Tommy looked at Kevin and made a face. ‘Fuck me, he’s as mad as a hatter!’

Kevin laughed.

‘Shall I get him outside so you can talk?’

‘Yeah, I think this lot will probably be grateful to see the back of him.’

Kevin walked over to Padraig. Whispering in his ear, he half dragged and half cajoled the man from the public house. To the amusement of everyone there, the docker shouted: ‘Oh, leaving so soon? And we hadn’t got to the bit about whoredoms yet! Well, don’t hurry back, mate.’

Outside Tommy looked at the man before him with sorrow. In his own way Padraig was a good man, only like most people who were too good, he got on the nerves of lesser mortals like Tommy himself.

‘Hello, Mr O’Connor. I’m Thomas Lane, and I’m looking for your nephew Joshua.’

Padraig stared at Tommy intently, his hard blue eyes seeming to bore into his face.

‘My nephew is no concern of mine, or yours come to that.’

Tommy smiled widely then, opening his coat, waited until O‘Connor was watching this action before punching him with all his might in the solar plexus, driving the man on to his knees. Dragging him up by his shirt, he looked once more into his face and said: ‘If you know where your nephew is, you’d better fucking tell me because the wrath of God is nothing compared to mine.’

Padraig weighed up his chances. His bible was lying in a small puddle, the pages open and getting soaked with dirty water.

‘I’ve nothing to say to you.’ Tommy began working him over then. Kevin held Padraig’s arms behind his back and Tommy pummelled him in the stomach and head. Five minutes later, his face was bloody, his eye swollen.

Tommy looked at the man’s destroyed face and said, ‘I can keep this up all night if needs be. It’s no skin off my nose. Now then, where’s your nephew? He’s hurt a woman I care about deeply. Sent her off her head, in fact, beaten her up and broken her heart. You’re not telling me you’ll hide someone like that?’

Padraig was shocked at the charges against his nephew. He had never cared for his sister much. They had tried to outdo one another on the religious front since childhood, but her husband had been a fornicator and a drunkard. Now it seemed the son was the same.

‘Hurt the woman you say? Beat her?’

‘Black and bleeding blue. I’ll take you to her, if you like?’

‘No... no. Joshua is at my coal yard in Shepherds Bush. At the corner of Scrubbs Lane. They’re both in the shed at the back.’

Tommy smiled then, sorry for what he’d had to do.

‘Thanks, mate. You can get on with your holy work now. We won’t keep you a moment longer.’

Padraig wiped a hand across his mouth. ‘The Lord is slow but he’s sure, young man. “What ye sow shall ye reap.”’

‘God also has another little saying. It’s: “An eye for a fucking eye.” Well, tonight your nephew’s going to find out exactly what that means.’

With that Tommy left the man and climbed into his car. He saw Padraig pick up his bible and wipe the pages lovingly before walking back into the foetid warmth of The Green Man, and in a funny way Tommy couldn’t help but admire him and his principles.

‘Come on, Kevin, let’s get moving. All this do-gooding is making me feel ill!’

 

Joshua was chewing his thumbnail, a habit that had always annoyed the life out of his mother.

‘I blame you for all this. I’ve had to leave me home, everything, because you brought the Cavanaghs into our house. Two weeks you’ve been married, two weeks! And now we’re hiding out in my brother’s bloody coal yard! Me, a respectable widow, reduced to this!’ She felt a terrific urge to brain her son where he sat. ‘Will you stop chewing your fingers to pieces!’

‘Listen, Mother, I can sort all this out. I have something Briony Cavanagh wants, in a manner of speaking. I’ll get us the money to start up again somewhere else. Now, for goodness’ sakes, give it a bloody rest!’

Elizabeth looked at her son, a weak man like his father. A weak and cowardly individual who had been both the pride and bane of her life.

‘What have you got exactly that’s so important?’

Joshua shook his head, annoying her once more. ‘Nothing for you to worry about. Let’s just say I have certain information that could help us, both physically and financially.’

As what he said sank in, Elizabeth O‘Malley felt her legs begin to give way. She sat down abruptly on an old chair, glad of its support. Her voice low now, she said: ‘You fool of hell! You stupid foolish boy. You’re not seriously contemplating blackmailing the woman, are you? Jesus wept! She’ll take you by your balls and hang you from the highest lamppost she can find, and she’ll do it in public and all, because there’s none will ever split on her. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You’ve found out something. This isn’t over Eileen really. Tell me what you know now, before they find us.’

Joshua licked dry lips and swallowed hard. He was in over his head and he knew it. Now, worst of all, his mother knew it too.

‘It’s Eileen and Briony ... they were both whores of Henry Dumas as children. Their father took them as little girls. Eileen attacked her father with the flat iron, and killed him stone dead...’

‘Jesus fecking cross of Christ! And you thought you could use that to get us out of this trouble? You’re even more stupid than I gave you credit for.’ Joshua saw the fear on his mother’s face and felt the heat of terror enveloping him, making him sweat.

‘Briony Cavanagh kept that a close secret, boy, so do you think she’ll ever rest easy again, knowing we have her marked down? Do you really think that? Could you be so bloody stupid! That Eileen, as mad as she is, was at least a decent wife in that she was quiet. Amenable and easily handled. You could have kept us both up there, living the life of Riley, but you had to push the girl. I can see now you pushed her over the edge. You’ve signed your own death warrant. Briony and that Tommy Lane rule the roost and, let’s face it, there’s more than a few people who’d like to see us out of the way. They’ll have all the help they need to find us.’