Lawless (24 page)

56

Lady Albermarle kept a house in Palace Court, Kensington, a big red-bricked monolith with huge bay windows and airy endless rooms, and she stayed there whenever she came up to town, which was often. When Ruby called in to see her old friend, Vi’s elderly husband Anthony was in Oxfordshire tending the ancestral family acreage, as usual.

‘Darling!’ Vi greeted Ruby, air-kissing her on both cheeks.

‘Hello, Vi,’ said Ruby, struck by the fact that in all the years she’d known her, Violet had somehow managed to remain unchanged.

There was something eternally attractive about Vi, something so effortlessly chic that Ruby thought it was no wonder Vi’s younger sister Betsy had resented her just about forever. But then Vi had always been the cleverer of the two. While she had deliberately wooed and then married old money, her younger sister had married less well, opting for Ruby’s brother Joe. While Vi rubbed shoulders with aristocrats and celebrities, poor Betsy seemed forever doomed to chase after respectability and status like an amateur collector snatching uselessly after rare butterflies.

‘You look wonderful,’ said Ruby truthfully.

Vi did. She still, at fifty-eight years old, sported the same dark red bob she had worn all her life; she was slim, tall, the same striking forthright girl she had been in the days when she stomped the boards and posed naked at the Windmill Theatre with Ruby, way back in her youth. Her green eyes were vibrant, her lips were painted carmine red, and she moved around in flowing drifts of Missoni fabric and wafts of her signature scent, Devon Violets.

‘Come in, sweetheart, it’s so lovely to see you,’ said Vi, ushering her into the drawing room and seating her upon a Louis Quinze chair before taking the seat opposite.

‘Would you like tea?’

‘No, nothing for me.’ Ruby looked at Vi. This was her best, her oldest friend. They had grown up together, coming through the war, forging very separate paths in life. Ruby had transformed a small corner shop into a nationwide chain of department stores; Vi had snagged a viscount.

‘How’s Daisy? And those adorable twins? Is Daisy still looking to follow in her mother’s footsteps?’

Ruby gave a rueful smile. ‘She tried working at the store, but truly, I think she hated it.’

‘I’m surprised
you’re
not at work though, beavering away as always. You live for that business.’

Ruby smiled painfully. If Michael’s death had taught her anything, it was that life is short. She needed cheering up, snapping out her low mood, and Vi – lovely Vi – was the one to do it. ‘I just wanted to see you. So here I am, on a workday – and what’s more I don’t care.’

‘Is everything OK?’ Vi’s brow wrinkled in concern.

Before Ruby could answer there was a quiet knock at the door. It opened slightly and a young man with bright blond hair and a stunningly attractive face put his head around it. He saw Ruby there and smiled: ‘Sorry to interrupt, darling,’ he said to Vi. ‘What time did you say for dinner tonight?’

‘Nine, sweetheart,’ said Vi. ‘You know I never eat before nine.’

The young man nodded and closed the door.

There was a moment’s silence, in which the two women smiled at each other.

‘He’s very good looking,’ said Ruby. ‘And
very
young.’

‘Isn’t he.’ Vi gave a satisfied smile. ‘Now, what was I saying . . . ?’

‘You were asking if everything was OK.’ Ruby’s face clouded. ‘And it’s not, I’m afraid. There was something . . . something awful . . .’

‘What’s happened? Has someone been hurt?’

Ruby nodded. ‘Simon – Daisy’s ex-husband. Oh, Vi, it’s horrible. He committed suicide. Hung himself.’

‘Oh God, how awful.’ Vi looked aghast. ‘Rubes, I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s the funeral on Friday. I’m dreading it, I really am. The worst of it is, Kit says Simon’s death wasn’t suicide at all, it was some sort of reprisal.’

‘Reprisal for what?’ asked Vi.

Ruby waved her hand tiredly. She had probably already said too much. ‘Let’s just say things have been pretty tough since Michael died.’

‘And Kit? Are you and he getting on any better?’

Ruby’s eyes were brimming with tears. She shook her head.

‘Not good,’ she said, and it all poured out then: that Kit had been drinking heavily, losing it; that he believed the Danieri family had been behind Michael Ward’s death, even though Bella Danieri swore this wasn’t true.

‘What, she
genuinely
doesn’t think her boys were responsible for Michael being shot? But, Rubes, it must be them,’ said Vi with an incredulous little laugh. ‘Of
course
it was them.’

‘She says not. And I believe her. Kit is determined to find out who did it. He loved Michael so much, it nearly broke him when he died.’

‘I was so sorry about Michael,’ said Vi. ‘I thought you were settled, you and him.’

‘What about you, Vi? Are
you
settled?’ Ruby indicated the door the delicious young man had appeared at.

‘What, with dear old Anthony? Yes, I suppose so. Although I do have my diversions, as you know.’

Ruby knew. A procession of very young handsome ‘walkers’ attended Vi whenever she was in town. Ruby had met them. They were all beautiful, polished and charming; lovely diversions indeed.

‘And you? There’s no one else yet?’ asked Vi, her eyes resting on Ruby’s face.

‘No. Of course not. Only . . .’ Ruby hesitated.

‘Only what?’

Ruby frowned. ‘Someone’s been in touch with me, a couple of times. He sent me flowers, asked me to call him, asked if he could call on me . . .’

Vi’s eyes lit up with interest. ‘Really? Who is he? Have you seen him?’

‘We’ve both seen him. He was at Michael’s funeral.’

‘Is he part of that world then? Michael’s world?’

Ruby looked at Vi. She knew exactly what Vi meant. Did this man, like Michael, inhabit that shady grey area that hovered between respectable business and the dodgy deals done on the London streets?

‘Yes, I suppose he is.’

‘What’s his name? What does he look like? You say we both saw him?’

‘He looks like . . .’ Ruby paused, searching for the words . . .’ He looks like a thug.’

‘Oh, come on, Rubes, I need more than that. Is he handsome?’ Vi was nearly hopping on her seat with excitement now.

Ruby thought about what she had so far seen of Thomas Knox. She
had
noticed him at the funeral, watching her with hard blue eyes. The straight dark-blond hair, the firm mouth, the air of a lion walking through a jungle, knowing he was king of the beasts. He had nodded to her, she had nodded back. They hadn’t exchanged a word. And then had come the flowers, the notes, the letter . . .

‘I suppose he is handsome, yes,’ she said cautiously. ‘In a brutish sort of way.’

‘Why don’t I remember him? I don’t usually miss a pretty face.’

Ruby shrugged. ‘He isn’t so much
pretty.
More . . . rugged.’

‘So what are you planning to do? Will you take him up on his offer and call him?’

Ruby thought of Michael, how desperately she missed him. Thomas Knox was clearly a perilous man to mix with, essentially lawless and without scruple, the sort of person who would always live by his own rules and to hell with whatever society might say.

‘I think he’s dangerous,’ she said.

‘Maybe that’s what you need: someone exciting.’

This drew a nervous laugh from Ruby. She reckoned she had more than enough excitement in her life for the time being.

‘Do you think you’ll get in touch with him?’ asked Vi.

Ruby thought it over. Well, did she? Since Michael’s death she had felt a bleak, aching loneliness that was close to complete despair. She would wake in the night, thinking
I will never love again. That’s it for me. He’s gone. There’s nothing left.

‘No,’ she said, finally.

But when she got home later that same day, she found that Knox had sent her another letter, assuring her of his best wishes and asking once again if they could meet.

57

1953

Tito was taking a keen interest in the foreign family. They were Swedish, Finnish, something like that. Gabe didn’t give a shit. Gabe and Tito stood near the woman when she was at the checkout with her little girl; her English was faltering, barely enough to conduct the exchange of money for goods. But she smiled a lot, and kept up a steady stream of conversation with the little girl, saying ‘Agneta’ often.

That was the little girl’s name, then: Agneta.

The child looked up at Gabe and Tito, and smiled shyly. Tito smiled back. Gabe didn’t bother. He’d never felt less like smiling. He was sick and tired of all this wandering about the countryside, he hated it now. All he wanted was to go home. He thought of leaving Tito to it, but he couldn’t do that; Tito would take offence, and Gabe had realized that you didn’t ever, ever, want to offend Tito if you valued your life. Besides, he had no money for trains. However this situation developed, he was stuck with it.

They returned to their tent, but Tito’s eyes were on the blonde woman and little Agneta as they walked to the far side of the site and a beige camper van parked there; a tall young man with white-blonde hair greeted them, took the shopping from the woman, swept little Agneta up into his arms. They could hear her tinkling laughter from where they stood.

Gabe was confused now as well as bored. Tito’s entire attention seemed to be focused on the family, and this puzzled him. For two days Tito did little but squat at the mouth of their tent and watch the comings and goings of the two attractive adults and their daughter. Then, when the family folded the awning on their camper van and loaded their belongings, Tito hurriedly began packing, telling Gabe to get a move on, they were leaving.

‘What is it with those two? How come you’re watching them?’ asked Gabe as he loaded up the Jeep.

Tito didn’t deign to give him an answer.

Now Gabe was starting to feel apprehensive. He didn’t know what Tito was playing at, but he didn’t like the feel of this, not at all.

They followed the little family at a discreet distance as they left the camp site. The man – Lars, they had heard the woman call him on several occasions – drove fast, and Tito sped along to keep up. Eventually Lars pulled into the car park of a pub that offered bed and breakfast. Tito drove on past, parked the Jeep up at the side of the road.

‘Come on,’ he said, and hopped out.

Gabe followed him reluctantly into the pub, and they ordered beer and sandwiches. The couple were nowhere in sight. Tito beckoned Gabe to follow him, then they wandered over to the table where the visitor’s book was laid out for B&B patrons.

Lars-Birger Blomdahl was written there, and today’s date.

The family were upstairs, being shown to their room.

Tito returned to the bar, apparently satisfied. Gabe trailed him to a table in the bar and soon their sandwiches came. Gabe found he couldn’t eat. He felt apprehension gnawing at his guts. Something horrible was going on here. Something frightening
.

58

Even as Ruby sat down for drinks in the American Bar at the Savoy with Thomas Knox, she was thinking
I shouldn’t be here.
When she had talked to Vi, she had been sure that she wasn’t going to get involved. Then had come the second letter. Uncertain, she had slept on her decision, and what she now thought was this: Knox could perhaps be useful to her and more specifically he could be useful to Kit. According to Rob, Knox’s hard men and Kit’s had always shown respect for each other, the two firms working side-by-side without any trouble. And if she could get Knox further onside then that could only be a good thing.

She could see that Kit was really up against it, struggling to come to terms with Michael’s death and running the business, let alone facing the Danieri threat. And now there was this Gabe character to contend with, fresh out of prison and with a history of violence. Even if Kit could cope with him, she had been appalled to learn that Gabe had waylaid Daisy.

‘Does he think he has a claim on Michael’s estate?’ she’d asked Kit when he filled in the blanks for her, telling her about his visit to Joe’s.

Kit told her what Joe had said, trying to calm her fears by adding that he was going to track the guy down and sort him out.

But that would only mean more trouble, at a time when they had troubles enough. Ruby hated all this. Running the business, her stores – that she could cope with; that was sanity. But for as long as she could remember, there had also been that other element in her life, edging around her like a black fog, seeping into her peace of mind. The shady London underworld had always been there – first with her brothers, Charlie and Joe, then with Michael, and now with Kit. That world frightened her; she had never sought it but she seemed unable to escape it. The most she could hope for was to hold it at bay.

She almost wished she hadn’t agreed to meet Knox. From a distance, what she had planned seemed manageable; but now, seeing him close-up, talking to him, she doubted her own ability to control this situation.

‘What?’ he asked, catching her staring at him.

‘Nothing.’ Ruby quickly looked away, sipped her wine. The bar was busy, the low background hum of conversation and clinking glasses soothing her jangling nerves. She was struck by the beauty of the place; she had never visited before and she was captivated by its Art Deco splendour, by its gold walls, floral gold-and-black seating and low black lacquered tables.

‘Ruby.’

Ruby turned her eyes back to his.

‘Relax, will you? I don’t bite.’

She thought he probably
would
bite, if the occasion called for it. His vivid blue eyes were very fierce in a tanned face that was not much given to smiling. Despite his neat appearance, his cleverly tailored grey suit, the crisp white shirt and striped tie, despite the brushed straight blond hair and the sweet whiff of expensive sandalwood aftershave, she felt an aura of brutal power seeping out of Thomas Knox’s pores, like mist coming off a mountain.