Faces (7 page)

All in all, it was a much easier life for Louie, and the company was also welcome. He liked the boy, admired his work ethic, and the fact that he was keeping his family fed and housed without making a song and dance about it. In fact he never mentioned it, just got on with the job in hand, took his wedge, and turned up the next morning. He was all that any man could wish for in a son, and yet his father had left him without a word, even though he had to have heard what had gone down with the Murrays. After all, it had become the talk of the Smoke, even the Faces from north London had mentioned it to him.

Still, he had done his bit for the lad, made his case with anyone and everyone he dealt with, and he was sure that the Murray boys wouldn’t want a repeat of their last outing with actual grown men. They were renowned for their scamming of people and, as long as they stuck to conning the likes of Big Dan Cadogan, they were safe enough. In the real world, however, the serious criminal world, they would be hard-pushed to get past Go, let alone collect two hundred or, in this case, six hundred. It was all relative anyway. Five quid was a lot of money if you didn’t have it.

The fucking pair of shitters had asked for it and, for once, someone had given it to them. The fact that it was a young lad and his mother must gall them, but then such is life. A low profile and a rethink of their business practices would have been sufficient for most people after a debacle of that magnitude.

Danny was the one people were siding with, because he was an innocent, just defending his family, and he hadn’t run away, he was still waiting for a meet of some sort to try and resolve the situation once and for all. The boy was a fucking dream, any man other than Big Dan would have been tempted out of hiding by the intimidation of his family. Danny’s old man was still AWOL though, and that was something no one would ever forgive, or forget. Especially not the young man sitting beside him.

 

Svetlana Murray was as worried as her Irish counterpart. She knew that if everything went pear-shaped again, she could easily find
herself
on the receiving end of a similar attack. It was like the law; once a precedent had been set and accepted into common usage, it could easily become the norm. Women and children were off-limits where violence or debt collection was concerned, and her sons had transgressed that particular unwritten law and made to pay the consequences of their actions. They were being cold-shouldered, and they knew they were. Even so-called friends were suddenly blanking them. It seemed that the boys had gone too far this time and public opinion was that they had crossed the line. Well, they had paid a terrible price for that, they were scarred for life. Her younger son had taken the brunt of the boiling water and she was sure it was only his hate that was keeping him on his feet. Walter, she knew, was willing to swallow his knob and let it go. It was Wilfred who seemed unable to let the matter drop. Like a lot of short men, his father included, he was forever trying to prove himself, and her warnings about the public sympathy the Cadogans were receiving seemed to be falling on deaf ears.

It was the Irish in him, she could only use that as an explanation for her younger son’s absolute denial of any wrongdoing where the Cadogans were concerned. Walter had always been the peacemaker, even as a boy, whereas Wilfred had been the one to bear a grudge. Even as kids she had seen that trait in him; if they argued about something Wilfred would bide his time and, when he was ready and no one was expecting it, he would pay his brother back, more often than not with interest. Now though, his natural gift for holding a grudge could easily become the whole family’s downfall, and she was not about to let that happen. She loved her boys but, like most people in their orbit, she didn’t actually like them.

 

Michael Miles waited outside the scrapyard until it was dark. He was smoking the last of his Dunhills and he wished he had brought another pack out from their hiding place. As he stamped out the glowing butt, he heard his friend calling out his goodbyes and, fixing a smile on his face, he prepared himself for what he had decided to do.

Danny saw him immediately and stopped in his tracks. Michael could see the anger in his friend’s face and tried to diffuse it by saying gaily, ‘What? Have we fell out and I don’t know about it?’

Danny sighed heavily. ‘Do me a favour, Mike. Get on your fucking bike and leave me be.’

It was an expression that they had used all their lives, get on your bike, or drive home will you. It should have been amusing, not a serious criticism. The nearest they had ever got to any kind of conveyance was if they nicked one for the afternoon. Even then they put it back rather than sell it on or dismantle it. Both were agreed that thieving someone’s wheels was not a kosher nick. In fact they had agreed that if they had been lucky enough to have been furnished with bikes they would have both understood someone borrowing it for a few hours. But actually to be in possession of the said vehicle, and then to lose it, would have been too much for them to bear.

The two boys looked at each other, neither of them willing to back down and neither of them able to make this situation right. Since the Murrays had turned up at Danny’s home he had studiously ignored Michael, believing it to be for the best. It had hurt.

‘You’re me best mate, Danny. Your problems are my problems.’ Michael saw his best friend close his eyes tightly in anger but carried on talking anyway, ‘I just want you to know you ain’t on your own, you’d do the same for me, surely?’

It was a question that they both knew needed an answer.

‘I wouldn’t need to do this for you. This just wouldn’t happen to you, Mike. When this all comes on top, and it will, you’ll be sorrier than shit if you are dragged into it. Use your fucking loaf.’ He looked at his best friend. Like him, Michael Miles was dark-haired; he had an easy way about him and a knack for ferreting out anything he wanted to know. Unlike Danny, he wasn’t a natural fighter, he wasn’t a natural antagonist. Together, they were a team.

Then Michael smiled, and it changed his whole face. His smile was his best asset, though he wouldn’t be aware of that fact for a good few years.

‘That’s as may be, Dan, but we’ve been mates since Infants. If you blank me again I’m going to get a complex.’

Danny laughed despite himself. ‘Look, Mike, you know the score.’

Danny held his arms out in a gesture of supplication.

Michael grinned again, knowing he was halfway home. ‘Fucking Murrays. They’re only half-Irish anyway, so what’s to worry about?’

They laughed together, both pleased their friendship was back on, and both worried at what might befall them because of that.

Chapter Three

‘Do you think maybe he’s dead?’

Danny sighed heavily and stopped himself from answering his mother’s question honestly. Personally, he hoped the old bastard
was
dead. At least if he died the debt died with him and all this shit would be over. It was the waiting that was doing his head in, the apprehension; he was at a stage where he would almost welcome the Murray boys and their retribution, just to get it over with once and for all. But he didn’t say that, of course. Instead he answered her with quiet anger, his voice higher than usual and laced with the general feeling of annoyance and irritation that her questions seemed to generate in him. ‘ ’Course not, Mum. He’s keeping a low profile, that’s all. You know me dad, once it’s safe he’ll sneak back in here like nothing ever happened, and you’ll make sure no one ever talks about it to him in case he gets offended or, God forbid, has to explain why all this shit happened in the first place.’

The disgust in her son’s voice was not lost on Angelica Cadogan, and it was only her son’s new status as head of the family that stopped her from boxing his ears for him. Without him they would have sunk without trace, she was more than aware of that, but his hard work made her feel so guilty and useless that she actively disliked him at times. It was unnatural having to kowtow to such a young boy, a boy she had birthed and brought up, a young boy who was suddenly the scourge of the household. In the months since her husband’s disappearance, Danny had not only paid off all their debts and put them on to a decent footing, but he had also, somewhere along the line, become a bully. He now queried every aspect of her domain, from the cleanliness of her home and children, to her squandering of the money he now provided on a regular basis. He was so young, and his youth was why he couldn’t give to them all without expecting something in return. His new role as head of the household was all an act. And a frightening act at that, because he was portraying what he thought a father should be and, as he had never experienced a real one in his life, it was causing no end of problems. He was like a caricature of what a parent should be, and there was not a lot she could do because she needed the money he was providing for them all.

In all honesty, she had never been so well off in her life. The fact that she had a good idea of what she would receive as her housekeeping each week had changed everything, but her son’s insistence on knowing what she had done with every penny was starting to wear thin. He made her feel inadequate, made her feel nervous around him. He made her private little purchases seem wrong, shameful. Who wouldn’t need a small nip now and then when they were as plagued by troubles as she was? Who wouldn’t need a stiff drink to face the lonely nights without a man to warm her, and that man her legal husband, the father of her children? She conveniently forgot that Big Dan was useless, had never once taken on the mantle of fatherhood except to beat the boys or her, depending on how drunk he was.

Sighing, Danny forced a kind and gentle note into his voice before saying reasonably, and with as much truthfulness as he could manage, ‘If he was dead, Mum, we’d have heard by now. Think about it, Old Bill would have informed us, wouldn’t they? It ain’t like he wasn’t
known
to them, was it? Fuck me, Mum, he was always on the nick, they knew him better than we did. They certainly saw more of him than we did, anyway.’

She didn’t answer him, the truth of his words penetrating even her pig-headedness. She sat down at the kitchen table and said sadly, plaintively, making her son feel even worse than he already did, ‘I worry about him, Danny. He’s still my husband, your father.’

Her son stared at her for long moments and she knew he was disappointed because she wanted her husband back with her, even though he was the reason for their current predicament. If only Danny was wise enough to understand how marriage and commitment worked for her generation.

Danny Cadogan smiled sadly. ‘Well, if he does come back, he’d better toe the line this time, Mother, because I won’t fucking stand for any more of his nonsense.’ Finally he vented his pent-up anger. ‘This is your last chance to put your kids first and, if you don’t, then I swear to God, I’ll walk out that door and leave you all to it. If, and that’s a big if, your old man does come back, he will have to come through me first and, believe me, I won’t be making it easy for him. He’s a liar and a ponce and an easy mark and I won’t forget what he’s caused, even if you choose to. To be truthful, if I knew where he was I’d serve him up to the Murrays meself, without a second’s thought, just to get them off our backs. People only do to you what you let them, that’s what you’ve drummed in my head all of my life. Well, watching you and him, I’d already learned that much at an early age.’

Ange didn’t answer him, she didn’t know what to say.

 

Louie Stein was pouring himself an early morning snifter, the large brandy he swallowed after his morning coffee, which he referred to as his eye-opener. His wife saw what he was doing and rolled her large brown eyes at the ceiling but she didn’t make any kind of comment. He could feel her annoyance though, and that just made him pour an even larger measure than usual, reasoning that if his actions were going to annoy her, then why not give her something to be annoyed about?

She placed his usual breakfast on the table, a small poached egg and a slice of bread and butter. He then did what he always did, pushed it away and lit a cigarette. He loved his wife, she was a good woman, but he also understood that they were at a point in their marriage where the only excitement either of them felt was when they were at loggerheads. He understood that, welcomed it even. Their youthful silences had taken its toll on them both; a decent row, they had found, cleared the air for a while and gave them both a good laugh afterwards. After all these years all they had in common were their grievances, real and imagined.

‘Are you going to tell the lad?’

He shrugged nonchalantly, flicking his ash onto the poached egg, something that was normally guaranteed to cause ructions. This morning though, Sylvia Stein ignored it, knowing her husband was trying to steer the conversation onto something else entirely. Well, she was not about to let that happen, she was genuinely interested in how he would react to what she had told him. She refilled his coffee cup, and then, for the first time ever, she refilled his brandy glass. Sitting back down she put her elbows on to the table, then she placed her head onto her hands and, raising her eyebrows comically, said loudly, ‘My God, Louie, would you put me out of my misery?’

His laughter was genuine, and she knew he would sound her out, see what she thought he should do with the knowledge he now possessed. Knowledge she had imparted because her sister Irene heard everything and, unfortunately, repeated it all.

 

Walter Murray was on the mend, he knew that because for the first time in months he had woken naturally and not because he was in pain. He studied his reflection in the mirror on his dressing table and admitted that he didn’t look much worse than he had before. Unlike Wilfred, he understood the economics of their shared situation and, like his mother, he knew that all that was left for them was damage limitation.