Get Even (15 page)

God, she had missed him so much.

‘Earth to Sharon!’

She laughed at Gerry’s scandalised face.

‘I can guess what you were thinking about, dirty cow.’

They went into a Wimpy and settled at a table.

‘I really missed him, Gerry. I suppose that is natural enough. We’re still newly married after all.’

Geraldine Dornan felt a wave of affection for her friend; she looked so bereft without Lenny. It was lovely to see.

‘You’ll knock his eyes out with that underwear!’

‘I hope so!’

They ordered their food from a young waitress with streaked blond hair and a nose ring.

As they settled in the booth, Sharon said seriously, ‘Has Reggie got a regular bird?’

Gerry laughed at that. ‘Not him. He’s the love-’em-and-leave-’em type. Reckons he has got plenty of time for all that.’

‘I suppose he has a point. If I hadn’t got pregnant, me and Lenny would have waited a few years before we got married. Funny thing is, I’ve been with him since I was thirteen and he was fifteen. We knew even then that we were for keeps. That sounds mad, doesn’t it?’

Geraldine shrugged. ‘Not really. I mean sometimes it’s just meant to be, I suppose.’

Sharon nodded sagely. She held out her hand and admired her wedding and engagement rings. To Geraldine she looked so young, like a girl playing at being a grown-up.

‘We were meant to be, all right. I couldn’t live without my Lenny.’

Geraldine slapped her hand in a playful way and said seriously, ‘Well, you won’t have to, will you? Don’t be so bleeding morbid.’

Sharon grinned. Geraldine was right, there was nothing to worry about with her Lenny. He adored her and their little boy. She was a very lucky girl; she knew that better than anyone.

Death is the privilege of human nature,

And life without it were not worth our taking.

The Fair Penitent
, Nicholas Rowe (1674 – 1718)

‘Lenny, will you talk to your sons! They have been right little fuckers today.’

Lenny sighed. This was getting to be a bit too common for his liking. He saw his two handsome sons, blue eyes wide and worried-looking, and he felt the usual rush of love for them.

He put on a stern face and bellowed, ‘What is it now, Sharon? What they done?’ He had to stifle the laugh that was threatening to break out at the look of shock and awe on the boys’ faces.

Liam, at three years old, was a natural-born bastard, as his dad would say. If he was walking in the Gobi Desert he would find a puddle of mud and fall in it. He was one of those kids who trouble seemed to follow around.

Sharon looked at her two boys and rolled her eyes in pretend annoyance.

‘Where do I start? Oh, yes. Young Lenny swore in school – at his teacher, no less! And that Liam kicked over Mrs James’s shopping. Bold as brass, he was. Then he down and out refused to apologise.’

Lenny gave his sons a ferocious look that made them cower and said, ‘What have you got to say for yourselves?’

They were both silent, watching him warily.

Then little Lenny, always the first to break, said quietly, ‘I’m sorry, Daddy.’

Lenny turned to his younger son, who was huge for his age and already had the air of a hooligan.

Liam looked him square in the eyes and, after a few beats, he said loudly, ‘I’m sorry then!’

‘Get to your rooms. There will be no sweets tonight, and no TV either.’

The lads stomped off together.

Sharon placed a cup of tea on the kitchen table and Lenny sat down, grasping the mug gratefully. It was freezing out.

‘Honestly, Len. That Liam! It’s like he has the devil in him.’

Lenny laughed. ‘He is a fucker, all right. My dad was telling me he told my mum he saw a dinosaur looking in his bedroom window.’

Sharon grinned. She sat opposite her husband and grabbed his hand tightly. ‘He has a good imagination, I’ll give him that. But it’s like he has no fear of anything.’

Lenny shrugged. ‘He is only three years old. He will be all right.’

Sharon nodded and smiled. ‘How was your day?’

‘Nothing spectacular. I went into the cab firm and put the hard word on that Hassid bloke. He can’t fucking pick and choose his jobs, and I explained that in words even he couldn’t fail to understand.’

Sharon laughed. ‘He was born and bred in Ilford. Why he talks like that I don’t know. But thanks, anyway.’

He waved away her gratitude, but she saw he looked tired.

‘Why don’t I run you a nice bath after dinner, eh? We could have an early night!’

She was leering at him playfully and inside he groaned. The last thing he wanted was sex; even Arnold Schwarzenegger couldn’t raise it for him at the moment. Not that he would tell her that, of course. She was still as eager as she had been when they first married, while he was getting to the stage where he was happy to keep it to once or twice a week. It was hard, sometimes, to pretend. But so much of his life was pretend these days.

He sighed once more.

‘I said I would meet Reggie for a few beers. We need to strategise about something Jack wants us to do.’

Sharon looked suitably disappointed, but didn’t complain. She was a good girl, his Sharon; she knew work was his priority. It was what had bought and paid for this lovely house that was her pride and joy. It was a nice drum, no doubting that, but she was forever decorating or changing the carpets. It irritated him at times, even though he knew he should be pleased that she took such a pride in her home. When he was being completely honest with himself he admitted too that, at times, Sharon herself irritated him. She had no real thoughts beyond her boys and her house. Oh, and him, of course. He wondered why he had never realised years ago just how small her world really was. But they had been kids then, and they had thought they knew it all. Now here they were, tied together for life, and that was all there was to it. He felt a moment’s shame at his thoughts and watched as Sharon started to dish up their dinner. She was a good cook, a good mother and a good wife. It wasn’t her fault that he had grown away from her in some ways.

At twenty-four he was now doing very well for himself, making a lot of money, and he also had serious responsibilities. Jack Johnson was leaving more and more of the day-to-day with him, and with Reggie as his number two he was enjoying the Life.

Reggie Dornan and their ‘friendship’, as they referred to it, was still going from strength to strength. It amazed him that he could still feel this deeply for anyone, let alone another man. Thankfully it was the very fact of their manliness that stopped people from thinking there was anything going on. They were simply held up as paragons of good friends. People talked about how close they were, and how well they worked together. It was amazing, but understandable given the world they inhabited. Poofs, shit-stabbers, whatever they might be called, were seen as Dick Emery-type figures to the criminal world. High-pitched voices and limp wrists constituted their idea of homosexual men. Hard men were not even suspected of anything untoward. Ronnie Kray had never really had the respect of his peers; he was seen as unnatural, as an aberration almost.

He remembered his dad warning him about a bloke on their estate. He was very effeminate, and Lenny was told
never
to speak to him, and
never
to go in his flat. His father, he now realised, couldn’t differentiate between a homosexual and a paedophile. But that was the world Lenny lived in and he had to accept that. Reggie hated it as much as he did, but, like him, he had no choice but to bow down and hide their true natures from the people around them.

They had taken up deep-sea fishing and, out on the boat, they could do what they liked. They found time to be together, and they made the most of it.

What other choice did they have? But they couldn’t escape the fact that it was wearing, constantly living a lie, living with the fear of being found out. And if anyone ever did find out they would be finished in more ways than one – not to mention if Jack ever got wind of his lucrative ventures outside the Smoke.

‘You all right, Len? You were miles away.’

He smiled tiredly. ‘Just thinking about work, darling.’

He pulled her on to his lap and squeezed her tightly. ‘Tell you what, get a babysitter and I will take you out for a nice meal tomorrow night, eh?’

She kissed him full on the lips. ‘Sounds good to me!’

She stood up and called the boys to the table for their meal, pleased that she was going to have a night out to look forward to with her big, handsome husband.

Reggie Dornan had bought a flat in Kensington, and he loved it there. It was far enough away that no one dropped in unexpectedly and it had a doorman, so if anyone
did
arrive, he was warned well in advance if he was with Lenny. As he stepped out of his black marble shower he eyed himself in the mirrored tiles. He knew he looked good. He set about his ablutions carefully. He looked after himself, even used women’s face creams, but he didn’t care – he felt it was important. You have one life – you might as well enjoy it, was his mantra. Lenny laughed, saying he could just see the expression on Sharon’s face if he started using Oil of Ulay.

Reggie sighed. He liked Sharon, but he felt such a jealousy of her at times, even though he granted it wasn’t her fault. He felt the same about the boys. He resented the times when they had to take them out on the boat and actually fish. Yet he understood the importance of having to do that. They took some of the men sometimes as well so as to make it look normal – like a thing guys would do together.

He wrapped a towel around his waist, went into his lounge and poured himself a brandy. Then, sitting in a leather wing chair, he lit a cigarette and, pulling on it deeply, picked up his book. He was looking forward to tonight. Lenny was like him – tired out and in need of some R&R. He enjoyed their time in his home. It was perfect for them as a cover to others, but it also meant Lenny could keep clean clothes here, etc. They were just two mates having a game of cards and a beer. The phone rang and he picked it up.

‘Hi, Reg. It’s Lenny. Rain check on the beers, I’m afraid. Liam set fire to his bedroom.’

Reggie put the phone down and stared at it for a few minutes, wondering whether to laugh or cry. Those kids were bastards.