Nameless (55 page)

Joe was there to pay his respects, with Betsy, Nadine and Billy. Betsy had said a tense hello, and Joe had given her a brotherly hug. Apart from that, they hadn’t spoken.

The crowds jostled them. Kit was standing just over there – so close, yet a million miles away.

Kit was watching Tito. The fat sadistic fuck was here, and when he caught sight of Kit he gave him a big toothy grin. Kit’s fists clenched.
That bastard.
A sickening vision of Gilda swam into Kit’s head
.
He didn’t know who had pulled the trigger on Michael, but he knew how Tito had been terrorizing Ruby, and he knew how furious Michael had been over that. He knew from Reg that Michael had visited Tito the day before his death, to give the wop one last warning over the Ruby situation, in case it should drift on even though Bray was out of the picture now.

He was drawing his own conclusions, and none of them were good.

For God’s sake, Michael, why didn’t you let me do it?
he wondered furiously. Tito had become a ticking time bomb, they had both known that. So
why
hadn’t Michael let him defuse the bastard, once and for all? He would never understand it.
Never.

The moving crowds had jostled Daisy away from Ruby so that she was standing by Rob.

‘Your mascara’s all over your face,’ he said, giving her a handkerchief.

‘Is it . . . ?’ asked Daisy vaguely. She rubbed at her sore eyes.

‘You missed a bit,’ said Rob. ‘It’s . . . oh fuck it, keep still,’ he said, and wet his finger and tidied her up.

‘This is so sad,’ cried Daisy. Rob noted that the buttons on her black cardigan were undone and it was falling off one shoulder, almost exposing a breast. He didn’t stare: he didn’t want to embarrass her. ‘Poor Ruby . . .’

‘I know it’s fucking awful. But at least it was quick,’ said Rob, his voice breaking.

Daisy looked up at him curiously. She’d thought he was just another mound of muscle like the others that had surrounded Michael, but it was clear he had feelings too. He had nice straight dark-blond hair, and those sexy khaki-green eyes, and actually his mouth was rather nice . . .

‘What?’ asked Rob. She was utterly gorgeous, and endearingly dippy. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

‘Nothing,’ said Daisy, starting to blush.

Seeing Rob was occupied with Daisy, Ruby moved over to where Kit was standing alone.

‘Kit?’ she said. ‘Are you all right?’

Kit turned and stared at her. ‘What?’ he asked, his face like granite.

‘This must be horrible for you,’ she said. ‘Michael and you were so close.’

‘You think I want your sympathy?’ he said coldly. He was in agony here over Michael. He wished so much that Michael had let
him
sort Tito. Then this wouldn’t have happened.

Ruby swallowed hard. ‘Kit . . . I just wanted to say something to you.’

‘What?’

‘That whoever did this . . .’ She gulped again, hardly able to get the words out. ‘
Whoever
it was, I want them to pay. Do you understand?’

Kit stared at her. ‘They’ll pay,’ he said at last.

‘I just think—’ started Ruby.

‘No. That’s enough. I don’t care what else you
just think
,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t want to hear a damned
thing
from you.’

And he walked away, into the crowds.

Ruby stood there, bereft, remembering Michael’s words to her on the beach where they had been so happy.

Do you think he’ll ever forgive you?

And her answer:
No. I don’t.

147

1975

It was after Christmas, in the grey January doldrums, when Kit was summoned to Michael’s solicitor’s office.

‘What for?’ he asked in surprise when he took the call.

‘For the reading of Mr Ward’s will,’ said the receptionist. ‘How does Tuesday suit you, Mr Miller? Two o’clock?’

The reading of the
will
? Kit agreed the appointment and put the phone down and looked around his flat, not seeing a thing. He had thought all that was over and done with. He had
thought
Michael would leave everything he owned to Ruby Darke. Of course she would be there on Tuesday to scoop the jackpot. He felt himself bristle at the thought of it, being closeted in an office with her, forced to be polite when all he wanted was to throttle her.

But what the hell. He’d be there. And he’d try to resist the urge, he really would. But only for Michael’s sake.

Ruby wasn’t there. No one else was, apart from him and the young chubby solicitor, who smiled a lot and kept pushing his glasses back up his nose when they slipped down. The man read out the will, and twenty minutes later Kit reeled out of the solicitor’s office clutching a letter that Michael had requested be delivered into his hands today.

Michael had left him everything. His businesses. His properties.

Everything.

He went home to the flat and sat there on the couch with the letter in his hands. He was in a state of shock. He had never expected any of this.

He looked down at the letter. Then with slightly unsteady hands he slit the top, pulled it out. Unfolded it. It said:

Kit,

Everything I have, it’s yours. But there are three conditions.

One, you’ve got to look after your sister Daisy. She’s a sweet girl but she’s a fruitcake, you know that. She’ll need some guidance from you. Keep an eye on her. Make sure she’s OK.

The second condition is harder. I know you’ve been hurt by all that’s happened to you. But Ruby was in a mess, she couldn’t help how everything panned out. She’s a good woman, kind and strong. So it’s my dearest wish that you should stop being an arsehole and give your mother a chance. You got that?

And finally on to the third. If I’m dead and that small matter we discussed hasn’t been handled, I owe you at least an explanation. My wife Sheila knew how I felt about Tito; I always hated him. But he was her kin. Tito’s mother Bella was Sheila’s mother’s sister – Sheila’s aunt. I swore to Sheila I’d never cause pain to Bella over Tito, and I’ve held to that – even though the bastard hasn’t returned the favour. He’s been cashing in on the family connection for years, and so what I’m saying is this: I can’t sort it. Can’t bring myself to do it. How could I do that, break my word, kill Bella’s son, inflict that kind of pain on her?

But Kit – if you want to, it’s up to you. You can handle it.

Your decision.

OK, boy?

Be happy.

Love

Michael

Kit let the letter fall into his lap. His eyes were wet. He leaned his head back on the sofa and thought about it all. Daisy. Ruby. And him – the nameless abandoned boy who’d fought his way up from nothing. He was boss of the manor now. Now he understood why Michael had held him back for so long. But now the decision was his to make. Michael could rest easy.

‘’Bye, boss,’ he murmured into the silence of the flat. He let the tears come then. His real father, that bastard Bray, went unmourned, but his
true
father, Michael Ward, would never ever be forgotten. ‘I love you, boss,’ he said.

Maybe somewhere Michael heard him.

Maybe not.

But he hoped so.

148

The launch of the select docklands development was going with a bang. At eight in the evening, nearly five hundred people were crammed into the marquee out on the square. There was a model of the whole thing, set out in the entrance lobby of the refurbished cotton warehouse, and VIPs were cooing over it, then going up and down in the lifts to marvel at the apartments with their stunning river views.

It was planned that later there would be designer shops, restaurants, a docklands railway – all the things needed to live the ‘café society’ life. There were drinks, nibbles and hostesses shimmying around among the jostling crowds, handing out smiles and nourishment. The noise and laughter both inside the building and out was deafening.

All Kit had to do was wait in the shadows, and watch.

He was watching Tito. Tito was surrounded by his heavies. Kit recognized some of them. Particularly the black-haired one, too bulky to move very fast, who had been there on the night Gilda died and Tito burned him.

All Kit had to do was wait. Drink would be taken. This was a social occasion, after all. No danger here.

By eleven thirty things were getting sloppy. People falling around the worse for drink. That was good.

Kit waited.

Now the crowds were dispersing, everyone heading home. Giggling and stumbling on the cobbles, they were making for their cars, for taxis, for the Tube.

Twelve fifteen.

No Tito.

Twelve twenty.

Ah. There he was.

Kit, dressed in a black tracksuit with the hood pulled up, adjusted the black scarf over the lower half of his face. His heartbeat picked up as he moved forward, on a straight line of interception with Tito.

Tito’s minders – three of them – were moving ahead. Tito himself, fat and prosperous-looking, was following yards behind, smoking a cigar and pulling on his coat. Kit saw the bright glint of Tito’s grey beard and his crew-cut hair in the dim sodium glare of the overhead lights, then Tito passed into heavy shadow. The minders were chatting, unheeding, up ahead.

Now.

Kit moved in fast. Tito was confronted suddenly by a black figure, standing right in front of him. His eyes widened in shock. His mouth opened. Kit struck, driving the thin stiletto blade straight up between the third and fourth ribs, right into Tito’s heart. Tito’s mouth fell open further, his eyes stretching wide in his head.

‘
Not smiling now, are you, Tito?
’ whispered Kit, then he yanked the knife free.

Before Tito even hit the ground, Kit was gone, running flat-out, away.

Behind him, he heard Tito’s boys start to shout.

Too late, boys. About a lifetime too late.

He ran all the way back to his car, parked over a mile away. Got in. Started the engine.

Job
done.

EPILOGUE

Spring was coming. Birds were singing, the trees were in bud, the bright yellow daffodils were flowering in the garden. But in Ruby’s heart, it was winter. She missed Michael so much. Even work, the thing that had sustained and absorbed her for so many years, seemed to give her no solace any more.

As usual, she went to the cemetery on Sunday to lay flowers on his grave. Daisy went with her. After she had come to Ruby’s when Simon had attacked her, Daisy had never left. Rob had driven them to the cemetery. Jody was at home, with the twins.

‘Come on,’ said Ruby, taking Daisy’s hand. ‘I’ve got something to show you.’

While Rob waited at the gate, the two women walked over to a far corner of the graveyard. Ruby stopped in front of a moss-covered headstone.

‘Look,’ she said to Daisy.

Daisy read the wording on the stone. ‘Alicia Darke?’ she said aloud. ‘Ted Darke?’

‘Your grandmother and grandfather,’ said Ruby.

She stared at the grave. All those years ago, it had been Ted’s express wish that he be buried in the same grave as the wife who’d betrayed him. He
must
have loved her, somehow.

‘Wow.’

‘I never knew my mother. She died giving birth to me.’

‘That’s awful.’

Ruby looked at her daughter.
So
pretty, and so precious to her. She squeezed Daisy’s hand.

‘You look so like her.’

Ruby stared at the gravestone. Poor Ted. Cheated on by his young, flighty wife. Doomed to look a fool. Doomed to
act
like one, too. But Ruby couldn’t feel angry about her sad upbringing any more. It had, after all, given her something to kick against, and look where that had taken her. Now she was Ruby Darke, head of an empire of her own making. And she had a wonderful daughter who might one day want to become involved in the business – maybe even take it over.

No Michael though.

And no Kit.

She had been in love just three times in her entire life. Once with Cornelius, then with her babies – and she had Daisy back, it was a miracle, but she had lost Kit and would never have another chance with him – and finally, blissfully, with Michael Ward.

Oh, Michael, I’ll never forget you.

She had been cursed, but also very blessed. Kit’s absence from her life was a constant nagging pain. But there was nothing to be done about that. His mind was made up.

Ruby let out a sigh. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s go home.’

Rob had gone over to his flat above the garage block, and Jody had settled the twins down for their afternoon nap upstairs. Daisy and Ruby were in the small sitting room at the front of the house, watching an old Stewart Granger film and drinking tea. When they heard the car engine and the wheels crunching on the gravel outside, it was Daisy who stood up, stretching and yawning. She went to the window to see who it was.

‘Oh,’ she said, staring.

‘What? Who is it?’

But Daisy just glanced at her and said nothing.

‘Come on, don’t keep me in suspense,’ said Ruby, standing up and joining her at the window.

Ruby’s breath caught in her throat as she saw the Bentley parked there. And then the driver got out and locked the car up.

Daisy was grinning now. Ruby felt as though all the breath had left her body.

‘Well, aren’t you going to open the door?’ demanded Daisy.

Somehow Ruby got the use of her legs back. Her heart thudding in her chest, she crossed to the door, and went out into the hall. Sunlight was pouring through the stained-glass panels on either side of the front door, peppering the marble floor with blues, reds and golds. She was aware of Daisy following.