Hard Girls (34 page)

Annie wondered how Margaret would fare on her own with the scum and the detritus they encountered on almost a daily basis. The wife-beaters, the shook her head in mock despair. N had diedgo child-molesters, all of them liars, all of them trying to justify their own failings. These were predators who saw a chance to make a few quid, and pounced on it without a second’s thought. She had seen pensioners battered and children slaughtered, and she had seen the people responsible walk away because they had manufactured themselves a good sob story.

But she kept her own counsel. After all, she had once been like Margaret, and she had learned the hard way that life was not all it was cracked up to be. She was over thirty years old, and she was alone. She could see herself in Margaret. A younger, more eager self and now, with all that was going on, she was wondering where that girl had gone, and if she could ever get her back again.

Margaret didn’t realise that Annie Carr was crying for long moments but, when she finally noticed, she got up from her chair and placed a gentle arm across her shoulders. ‘Hey, Annie. What’s wrong?’

Margaret was frightened by Annie’s tears and she didn’t know what she was supposed to do. She didn’t yet know that this was part and parcel of the job. Feeling completely useless, and wondering why you couldn’t find the perpetrator of such a vicious crime eventually took its toll on you. Margaret didn’t yet understand just how hard it was to try and come to terms with other people’s hate, other people’s viciousness. She hadn’t experienced the sheer disgust that many of the people they had to get involved with would engender within her.

Annie was really sobbing now, and she turned her face into Margaret’s outstretched arms and finally let her emotions get the better of her. Margaret held her tightly, wondering how this situation had come about. Of all the things she had expected from Annie Carr, this wasn’t one of them.

Patrick was aware that Kate was doing what he would usually refer to as
stronging it
. She had not answered any of his calls, nor replied to any of the numerous messages he had left for her at the station house. He was getting pissed off.

As he opened the door to Terry O’Leary he was not his usual jovial self, and Terry noticed it straightaway. ‘Patrick Kelly, you look like you lost a sawn-off and found a fucking cap gun. I take it Kate’s still not talking to you.’

Patrick scowled, and that just made Terry laugh even more. ‘Jaysus, Pat, have you seen yourself?’

Even Patrick had to laugh at his friend’s incredulity.

‘She’s missing you, I saw it in her eyes. You two are like Bogart and Bacall; great together, shite on your own.’

Patrick opened the fridge and took out a bottle of white wine. As he poured out two glasses he said snidely, ‘Fucking white wine, you’re a right tart, do you know that?’

Terrence laughed good-naturedly. ‘Less calories than beer, and I still get as drunk. It’s a different world now. I don’t do a full Irish breakfast every day, just on a Sunday after Mass, and I eat sensibly and drink in moderation. Short of getting shot by someone with a grudge, I reckon I’ll live longer than most.’

Patrick handed him the glass of wine and, sipping his own, he swallowed the golden liquid appreciatively. ‘Even I have developed a taste for this stuff. Now, what brings you here on a bright and frosty morning?’

O’Leary was suddenly all business. ‘I have a proposition for you. Bates wants in, and that their nearest and dearest,3tego’s fine by me. But what I want from you is an investment in my
new
business venture. I have the opportunity to purchase a rather large scrapyard in North London. Now, as I am rather well known these days, and therefore have to keep a low profile, I thought you might like first offer as partner. It’s a guaranteed earner, and it’s owned by two brothers who are, for some strange reason,
not
of the criminal persuasion. A friend of mine has convinced them that it would be in their best interests to unload said scrapyard at the going price to my good self. Now, this yard is ideal for us in that it’s not on anyone’s radar, not the Filth’s, nor any rival families’. It has a lot of land with it that could be utilised by us in a variety of different ways and, best of all, it’s a seriously legitimate business. In fact, I had a forensic accountant give the books a quick shufti, and he was hard-pressed to find a penny out of place.’ Terry gulped at his wine before saying sagely, ‘I mean, come on, Patrick, what kind of eejit runs a straight scrapyard? It’s fucking outrageous. Why wouldn’t you try and get an earn on the side?’ He shook his red-haired head in consternation. ‘Anyway. I think it’s the real deal.’

Patrick grinned. ‘Is it the McCartneys’ place?’

Terrence was impressed and it showed. ‘You fucker, how did you find out?’

‘Danny Boy told me a few weeks back. He’s a real ferret him, finds out everything. Not that I’m complaining, and you’re right, there’s a lot of potential there. Me and you are just the fellas to tap into it. What’s the initial outlay?’

‘A million each. The equipment alone is worth over a mill and, as the two brothers are happy to take a twofer, we can get the sale over within a month. I thought we could do a nice sideline in crushing motors. Obviously we would not really be crushing them, only the ones that are shite. I think it could be a front for misplaced prestige cars, Mercs, Porsches, and the like, that we can sling into containers and send overseas. It’s a booming business, especially with all the cunts who have bought into the Dubai dream. Personally, I hate the place, it doesn’t do anything for me. I think it’s like Vegas but without the atmosphere.’

Patrick laughed loudly. ‘Kate hated it there when we went out for Jimmy Doyle’s sixtieth. It was too hot and completely charmless. You know like Italy, say, or even fucking
Glasgow
, there’s a bit of culture, some nice buildings, decent architecture. There was nothing to actually go and
see
there. It was all too staged. All right for a few days, but I couldn’t do more than a week there at a time.’

Terrence smiled. ‘My old woman loves it. Shopping is all she does out there. Mind you, that’s all she fucking does here. So, can I take it you’re on board?’

Patrick nodded. ‘Yeah. I’ll buy in through one of my offshore companies, that way I won’t be on any paperwork that’s important. Danny will keep an eye out for me, he’s a good kid. Now I’m unloading the flats and houses, I’ll need something to keep me busy. Danny can do all the legwork, just ring him and he’ll sort it. He understands the business too. He bought Dicky Bolton’s place not so long ago.’

‘You and him make a good team, Pat, he’s a nice kid. Everyone speaks well of him. And he was useful when we had our recent difficulties.’ Terrence held his glass out for a refill and, leaning casually against the kitchen sink, he said quietly, shook her head in mock despair. N had diedgo‘I hear the sister put your front window in?’

Patrick smiled ruefully. ‘She did. And she was well within her rights. I treated her abysmally, and she is quite a feisty character, if you know what I mean.’

‘So I hear. Is Kate back on the scene yet?’

Patrick sighed heavily. ‘What do you think?’

‘I saw her the other day and she more or less said she was making you sweat. She’ll be back, Pat. You dropped a hefty old bollock, but we’ve all done it. You two are like me and my old woman, you fight, you fuck, you make up, and you fight again. It’s nature’s way of keeping you on your toes.’

Patrick grinned, and Terry could see the lines that were accumulating around his eyes, that he was getting on in years. He still looked in great shape, but he had the looseness of skin that said you were getting past your sell-by date. It was strange seeing Pat like that, he always thought of him as being in his prime. It was something he was noticing a lot recently, the ageing of his friends. He hated that he himself was spreading, that he couldn’t run any more. He hated that he was breathless at times, and that he felt tired out halfway through the day. It was funny, you spent all your life making money, but when you finally cracked it, you were too old to enjoy it.

Terry watched as Pat opened another bottle of wine, and he waited for him to refill the glasses. ‘Here, Pat, could I ask you a favour?’

Patrick nodded affably. ‘’Course. What is it?’

‘Do you think you could get Kate to talk to that ugly bird from Victim Support? Only she’s turning up all over houses and flats in Grantley. The girls like her, but I think she might see a bit too much of what goes on. Giving them Bibles and having a chat is one thing, but not on my clock. Two girls have fucking left over her, said they wanted a different life.’

‘Well, you can’t blame them for that.’

‘I know, but not only is she making a dent in my earn, she’s also seeing too much of what goes on. Some of those girls entertain the local dignitaries.’

Patrick laughed again. ‘What, like Lionel, the dirty old fucker?’

‘And the Mayor, the little fat fuck. He gets his goolies slapped with the Chief Planning Officer from the council, that’s how I got planning permission for that block of flats in town. But, that aside, she’s a weird old bird and I want her to start conducting her business off my premises.’

Patrick nodded. ‘It’ll give me an excuse to talk to Kate, she’ll know what to do.’

‘She’d better, because if she doesn’t give her the soft word, I am going to get Simone to turf her out with a flea in her ear.’ Terrence shook his head sagely. ‘Fucking Bible bashers, no good ever comes from those kinds of people. I go to Mass, I take me penance every few months, I don’t try and ram it down anyone’s throat. Once me mum pops off, I’ll leave all that to the wife and kids. But it’s strange the way the girls act towards her. Simone reckons they like her because she makes them feel good about themselves. Fucking birds, eh? Beyond understanding.’

Patrick laughed loudly. He loved Terrence O’Leary. Not only was he ways been at t

Chapter Twenty-One

Kate was annoyed with herself. She knew she shouldn’t have aborted Pat’s call, but she was still hurting. She believed he was sorry now, but it wasn’t enough for her, it still didn’t make things right. Although she had forced the issue, had been angry at his involvement in the flats and houses the girls worked out of, she could have overcome that. Deep inside, she had always known he was not directly involved. After all, he had been running women when she first met him. She had accepted him for who he was.

As angry as she was, though, she was very aware of how hard it would have been for him to make the first contact, and she had been batting off his calls for days. Patrick had completely wiped her from his life, had ejected her once and for all from their home. He had to have known she would have come back sooner rather than later. Even though she loved that man, much more than he deserved, she still couldn’t get over the way he had completely blanked her. She had lived in that house for years, she had felt that it was
her
home as much as it was his. And he had pushed her out, like she counted for nothing.

But that he expected her to welcome him back with open arms, knowing he had slept with a girl who was, in effect, younger than his dead daughter had she lived, having treated her so badly, made her feel hot with shame and anger.

She didn’t want coffee now, she needed a drink. She opened up her desk drawer and took out her half bottle of whisky. Pouring a generous measure into her cup, she gulped it down. She felt the warmth of the burn as it slid down into her chest, then the second burn as it arrived in her belly. She swallowed down another shot of whisky and opened the files once again. She knew them practically off by heart now, she had read them so many times. But she went back to the beginning.

Her phone made a quiet beeping sound. As she opened the text message, she smiled widely.
Please come home, Kate. I need you
.

She knew how much it would have taken proud Patrick Kelly to send her that message and, even though he had broken her heart, and even though he had taken young Eve into his bed black and white. enwhoM6 eventually, she wanted him. She still felt the pull of him even after all these years. She picked up the files and left the building.

As she approached the gates, she saw that they were already open, and she drove in. She saw his outline as he stood in the light of the front door. Getting out of the car she felt the sting of tears in her eyes.

Pat walked out of the house towards her, arms outstretched and, pulling her into a tight embrace, he said raggedly, ‘I didn’t think you’d come. I didn’t think you’d ever forgive me.’

She relaxed into his body and he breathed in the familiar scents that were his Kate. Harmony hairspray, Boots moisturiser and Chanel No. 5. Pat felt as if he had died and gone to heaven. She was there, she was in his arms, and he knew that, no matter what he might try to tell himself, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that he didn’t need her, he couldn’t exist without her.

‘I missed you so much, Kate. I missed you so fucking much.’

As they walked into the house together, Pat felt all the tension leave his body. Shutting the huge double doors behind them, he locked them both.

Kate caught her reflection in the large Venetian mirror that was opposite the front door. She knew she looked awful, that she looked every day of her age, and she saw she was crumpled up and grubby from being in the same clothes for over fifteen hours. But it was pointless to start worrying about that now, she could never compete physically with a young woman like Eve Foster, she wouldn’t even try to. What she focused on was that she was here, and Eve wasn’t. She knew that if she thought about it all too much, she would only make herself unhappy.

Kate looked around her. It was all so familiar, and yet it all felt so strange. After all, Eve had been here, she had slept in their bed, she had showered here, and she had eaten here. It was hard for Kate to accept that truth, but she knew she had to get over that obstacle if she wanted to get her life back. Their old life back. Percy Sledge was on the CD player, and as they walked into the kitchen together, Pat looked at her and said happily, ‘Fuck me, Kate, you don’t half look rough, girl.’