Get Even (21 page)

Lenny and Reggie were with Jack Johnson, making plans for the demise of Frank Barber. There was no other choice – especially now they knew about Frank taking over the Carters’ business and the trouble he would cause if he started a blackmailing scam. If he went after the likes of Smithson, then he would be party to all sorts of information that would augur well for no one. He had crossed a line and he needed to be reminded of that. This wasn’t the old days where anything went – this was the world of the new criminal.

They wanted him outed and this was as good an excuse as any to do that. It was a win-win situation, especially for Terry, who would happily work with them to take back what he saw as his. He was wise enough to know he couldn’t do it without Jack and his boys, even if he would forever be beholden to them now. But, rather the devils he knew, than the one he was currently working with – a cantankerous old fucker who still thought Frank Ifield was the height of sophistication.

He was quite happy to lead Frank Barber to his death. This would soon be over and they could get back to normal.

‘You all right, Shaz? You’re quiet tonight.’

Lenny wasn’t sure what was wrong with his wife but he sensed there was something bothering her.

Sharon looked at her big, handsome husband and sighed gently. ‘Just tired, that’s all. It’s been a long day.’

He nodded almost imperceptibly. ‘That right?’

He turned his attention back to his food and, as he bit into his steak, he watched her surreptitiously. There was definitely something bothering her and he wondered if she had heard a whisper about Frank Barber.

‘Sit down and talk to me, woman. You’re like a fart in a colander – all over the fucking place.’

Sharon hesitated a few seconds before sitting at the table opposite her husband. She watched him eat. He didn’t look any different, and she still wondered why she thought there could be some truth in her young son’s words. But the reality was, she had long sensed that there was something not right about his friendship with Reggie Dornan. Things that had vaguely bothered her over the years were coming to the forefront of her mind. Gerry Dornan saying that Reggie should come out of the closet before he ended up in Narnia; at the time she had laughed with Gerry at her words. They had been said as a joke because he never seemed to have a girlfriend. She could not think of one instance where Reggie had ever brought a woman anywhere with him, even to the pub.

She thought of Lenny and Reggie going off on the boat for long weekends fishing together. If she was honest, she had always felt that he preferred Reggie’s company to her own. But whatever her suspicions, she could never ask this man about any of it. Saying what young Liam had told her would cause untold trouble for everyone. And that was something she knew she had to avoid at all costs. There were some things that could never be brought out into the open, and this was one of those things. Deep inside she wasn’t sure she even
wanted
to know the truth.

‘Have I done something that I don’t know about?’

She laughed at his absolute surety of this. She could see him racking his brains for some slight or unguarded word.

She shook her head slowly. ‘Do you still love me, Lenny? Like you did when we were really young and first together?’

He sighed in relief. It was one of her ‘tell me you love me and desire me and need me above all others’ days. He smiled at her. Putting down his knife and fork, he grabbed her hand and kissed it with his greasy lips.

Sharon felt an urge to drag her hand away from him and his touch. Did he touch Reggie with those same lips? She forced the thought from her mind. She looked over his shoulder to the windowsill above the sink; there was a photograph of Lenny and Reggie on the boat in their shorts, arms around each other’s shoulders. They were both smiling into the camera and she felt the bile rising in her throat at what she was picturing, imagining.

‘Seriously, you all right, girl? You don’t half look white. You sickening for something?’

He was genuinely concerned for Sharon now and his eyes searched her face to try and work out what might be wrong with her.

She forced a smile. ‘I’m fine. Just feel a bit off-colour, you know?’

He grinned. ‘You ain’t in the club again, are you?’

She shook her head in denial; the thought of having another child with this man was abhorrent to her at this moment.

‘It’s women’s problems, Lenny. That’s all.’

He nodded in understanding. He assumed she was having a heavy period or something ‘womanly’, as he had always referred to it. It was the one answer to guarantee he wouldn’t pursue the conversation.

‘I think I will have an early night, Len. Take a hot-water bottle up and have a rest.’

He smiled at her, and he was so handsome she felt her heart would break.

‘I’ve got to meet Reggie anyway: we have got a bit of business to attend to.’

She nodded quickly and busied herself making the hot-water bottle, but she didn’t feel easy in herself until he had finally left the house. She had a lot to think about as she sat in the bed she shared with Lenny and looked through the photos of him and his best friend. They were so happy in them, smiling and laughing at the camera, and she knew then, without a doubt, that what her son had said was true.

Daddy had been kissing Uncle Reggie.

She cried bitter tears as she wondered how the hell she would cope knowing what she did. Because there was no way in the world she could ever,
ever
let Lenny Scott know that his secret was finally out. She lay awake for a long time in the darkness, waiting for him to return home.

Jack Johnson felt good about what was happening tonight. Frank Barber was getting exactly what he deserved and that was not something to worry him unduly. Lenny and Reggie had handled the details well; Terry would forever be in his debt and that wasn’t a bad thing. He was a good bloke and he was sensible enough not to make aggravation for himself. That was the epitome of a good earner as far as Jack was concerned. Trouble came in their game anyway so it was pointless going out and looking for it like Frank Barber seemed to be doing. He was too long in the tooth to start this shit now. He had been away too long and he didn’t understand the economics of the modern-day Faces. But that was his lookout. All Jack Johnson knew was that no one from the old guard was going to busy themselves for that silly old fucker. Time was when Frank Barber would have worked that out for himself. He was an old Moustache Pete, a joke to the new generation of men waiting to take what he had. In their world, there was no room for stupidity – that much was certain.

Jack sat in his home, drinking twenty-year-old Scotch and waiting for the call that would tell him it was finally over. He was feeling quite relaxed and full of bonhomie. But, of course, he reasoned that could just be the Scotch. Or the fact that the old bastard was finally getting his comeuppance. And not before time either. He was stronging it and that never boded well for anyone, really. There was nothing sadder than a fucking has-been.

Frank Barber was pleased with himself. He liked that he had made his mark so quickly and so succinctly on the world he inhabited. He had done his time – and a fucking big lump at that – and he had done it with aplomb, even if he said it himself. He had put his head down and got on with it. He would like to see that scum Jack Johnson do the same, and do it as well as he had! He had made a place for himself as such and, when they had finally released him back into the wild, he had picked up the mantle once again. Now he was making up for lost time, taking back the nineteen years he had lost – and taking back his crown.

He saw Terry Cobb smiling at him as he entered the house in King’s Cross. This was another thing he was making up for – and the women were getting their fill of him all right. He smiled at the thought. He wouldn’t pay them either; he had never paid for a fuck in his life and he wasn’t starting at this late stage. They worked in his house so the very least they could do was fucking humour him. He was the main man after all.

The story was already going round that he wasn’t exactly nice to the girls, and that often upset the men who they worked for. This had been a good house until now, and the girls had been well looked after, first by the Carters, and then by Terry. They were wary and waiting to see how long the new bloke lasted, especially the younger girls, who seemed to be the preferred choice of Frank Barber. Young and childish was his taste; for them, it was like sleeping with their great-granddad. But he liked them to act as though he was the dog’s knob and they had no option but to play along. It was laughable, and when they were together that is exactly what the girls did: laugh at him. It was the only way they could cope.

They watched warily as he passed through towards the back rooms – the main workplace of the owner was always in the huge kitchens that had once been the domain of the servants. It was like a rabbit warren back there and the girls were not encouraged to visit unless expressly requested. That suited them down to the ground. It was also suiting Terry and his cohorts as they led the man straight through to his own slaughter.

When Frank saw Lenny and Reggie waiting for him, he had every intention of putting up a fight. But when Terry took him down with a well-placed blow to the back of the head with a lump of lead piping, he realised it was all over for him. He was absolutely gutted. He remembered Eddie Richardson saying to him once that everyone is king, even if it is only for one fucking day. Never was a truer word spoken.