The Business (49 page)

Well, she was finished with it. Jordanna was over eighteen and Kenny Boy was sixteen, she would see that the powers-that-be were aimed out the door once and for all, and her word in her house would become law again.

As she held Jordanna’s hand, she swallowed down the tears that threatened to choke her. This girl was at the end of her tether, and it was up to her to make sure that nothing like this ever happened to her again.

Kenny was going to want to know who his sister had been out with, and who had supplied the drugs and drink that had put her in this hospital bed.

Well, he could wait till the morning, she did not want him here quite yet. It was his birthday and he would find out about this soon enough. Why meet trouble head-on?

Basil would also be a handful when he heard about this. So Mary decided to sit with her granddaughter quietly. She wanted to be the first person Jordanna saw and the first person to talk to her. She wanted to hear the whole sorry story in private so that she could edit it, if needs be, and stop another murder from being committed by one of her own family.

Imelda was amazed at how her son had turned out. Considering what her brothers were like, he was a right touch. But then they had her old man on their back as well, so she had to allow for that.

Kenny looked like a real good kid, and he was a kid, even though he was like the half side of a house. He was handsome, and as he chatted to her and Basil she saw that he had that extra little something about him, knew he would always be noticed by people. She had it, and she had wasted it. And anyway, women only had it as long as they had their youth and beauty. Men who possessed it were guaranteed it for life. She knew it was not the proud mother talking either, after all, she was only here because Basil had primed her. She had to admit, though, that Kenny was a live wire; funny and articulate. He was a strange mixture of grown man and immature teenager really.

Imelda was interested now to see if he used his natural shrewdness for his own ends, or did what she had done with hers, waste it, because she had been so convinced of her own immortality that she had lost sight of the main prize. She knew that her selfishness and arrogance had eventually caught up with her. But it was the heroin that had really been her downfall.

It had been inevitable really and, as everyone found out in the end, hindsight was a wonderful thing. Something she pondered on when she remembered how she had used people, how she had deliberately been nasty and dismissive of people who were now in positions where they could help her out, had she been sensible enough to give them the time of day when she had the chance.

So, this new-found friendship with her son would be made tolerable because she was interested in seeing how he would operate in the future. He had Basil in his corner, and that was a bonus in anyone’s book. Plus her mother had pulled herself up through the ranks and forged a decent earn for herself as a paid gatherer of information and rumours with Jimmy Bailey. So, Kenny had a decent start in life.

As Imelda lit herself another cigarette, she saw that Basil and Kenny Boy were both looking at her expectantly. She had obviously been asked a question of some sort and, as she had not bothered to listen, she was in a quandary.

‘Well, answer me?’

Kenny had not referred to her as ‘Mum’ once, and she was a bit peeved about that if she was completely honest. She had been bloody good to him when he was a baby.

‘What do you want me to say?’

It was a trick question and Basil knew it but Imelda was not sure if Kenny Boy had sussed out that she was oblivious to what he had asked her. Her years on the bash had taught her how to look interested and alert even though she had tuned the punter out from the off. Now though, she knew she would have to be a little bit more on the ball.

Kenny was frowning at her, and she knew he had asked her something that he felt was of real import.

‘I’m sorry, son, but I don’t know what you want from me.’

He stared at her with those dark-blue eyes of his, eyes that he had inherited from her. The word ‘son’ had thrown him, as she knew it would.

Basil was impressed at Mel’s deft handling of her son and, seeing the effect her words had on Kenny he said quickly, ‘I think that what Kenny wants to know is why you didn’t just pretend you knew Jordanna, why you had to make a snide remark and humiliate her in front of her mates?’

He had exaggerated the question, and they knew it. But Kenny also knew that it had to be asked at some point, so now was as good a time as any. He had worked out already that she had not even heard him ask her why she had more or less blanked her only daughter.

He saw the feral glint in Basil’s eyes and then saw the same glint mirrored in his mother’s. He knew that Basil was just waiting for an excuse to pounce on her and he understood that was because this woman was genuinely without any kind of feelings at all. It was a real eye-opener for him.

‘In all honesty, I was embarrassed. I did not recognise her, and if that makes you both angry, so be it. I am trying to be honest here and, believe me, that is not something I tend to do very often, as Basil will tell you.’

Kenny nodded. He looked at her once more, at her tight clothes, heavy make-up and well-cut hair. She wore good shoes; she was obviously vain about her legs and, in fairness, she had good reason to be. She looked what she was though, a brass. A pro, an old tom. She was a user, a ponce. She was without any scruples or decency.

This woman had given birth to him and yet she felt no connection to him whatsoever, even though that was not something most women did lightly. Labour was a long and painful experience from what Kenny could understand, and she had only gone through with his pregnancy and birth because she had hoped it might get her a reduced prison sentence if that became an issue. Otherwise he would probably have been scraped out and flushed down the bog long ago.

She was quiet now, watching him as he digested everything she had said. She knew then that he had made his mind up about her, and not in a good way either.

They looked at each other for long moments then, sizing each other up. He would keep an eye on her, he’d decided that she was someone it was better to keep tabs on. Now that he had finally spoken to her, the allure he had felt initially had vanished. But she was still his mum and, unfortunately, nothing or no one could ever change that.

Chapter Twenty-One

Jordanna was still not right and Mary was at a loss as to how she could make the girl she loved more than life itself feel happy once more. As Jordanna lay on the sofa softly sleeping, Mary wished she could make it right for her. In the months since the attack she had reverted back to how she had been as a child.

Jordanna had never been what you might call an ebullient kind of girl, well not since Lance’s death anyway. Away from her mother’s oppressive personality, and the foster home she had been forced to stay in, she had come home to her granny and brother and, after a while, she had started to emerge from her self-induced shell. Eventually, after a lot of hard work, she had become a child once more, albeit a child who knew too much, far too much than was good for her. But Mary didn’t like to dwell on any of that.

She was a child who had silently watched the people around her, who waited to see how the people around her were going to react to the abrasive forces surrounding them, before ever allowing herself to interact with them. A child who, for a long time, had been nervous, without any kind of authentic emotions. For years she saw everyone around her as possible enemies, users.

The more they loved her, or tried to care about her, the more she seemed to mistrust them, believed they were only trying to use her for their own ends. It was all she had ever really known in her young life.

But Jordanna had one saving grace; she had always loved her granny, the only constant in her little life. She was the only person who she knew genuinely loved her, no matter what she had done, or what had happened to her. Jordanna needed someone in her life who did not judge her, or try to question her about the events of the fateful night when Lance had died, or about Jed and her mother. About the night when they had been bought to book and which she had heard in stunning clarity by all accounts.

Mary remembered now that Jordanna had pushed her little brother under the bed, had tried to protect him. It was a shame that no one had managed to protect her when she had needed it.

She had seen to it that the girl she adored had been given everything she needed, everything she asked for. She had loved them both, especially Jordanna, with a vengeance. She had also used her influence to guarantee that the girl had never had to answer to anyone about Lance’s death, she had made sure that the girl had been allowed to live a relatively normal life.

Because of that, the children had managed to get over it in the end, and Mary had created a life of sorts for them all. In fact, she had eventually even managed to bring laughter and a sense of normality into their daily lives, something they had never known before. She had been determined that these children
would
be loved and wanted, would
feel
loved and wanted, and Mary knew that she had achieved that much.

Then, once again, Imelda had come into their lives and in a few minutes and with a few choice words she had destroyed everything they had built up together without a second’s thought.

Now Kenny Boy had been determined to get in touch with her, and, having thought about it some more, she thought in all honesty that he was right, they were far better off if they knew where she was and what she was doing: in that way they could police her. Imelda had a habit of turning up like a bad penny so, in this case, forewarned
was
forearmed. Mary wanted to keep her as far from Jordanna as was physically possible, though. Imelda had been responsible for the girl’s problems and Kenny knew the truth of that as well as she did, as did Basil and everyone else. Michael Hannon hated her with a vengeance and so did Jimmy Bailey. Imelda had managed to fall out with everyone who would have helped her out if she had used her loaf now and again.

But now, looking at Jordanna and seeing the toll the last months had taken on her, Mary wished, once again, that her daughter would just die. An accidental overdose, or she could fall under a train; anything to get her out of everyone’s life once and for all. As long as she was alive, Mary knew that Jordanna would never know a day’s peace.

Jordanna awoke at last. She looked terrible.

Smiling falsely, Mary asked, ‘Are you all right, my darling? What did the doctor say this time?’

Jordanna smiled tremulously. She saw through it all as if she was looking through a pane of glass. But she played the game, she had no other choice.

‘I’m all right, Nan. But he told me something, and I need to talk to you about it.’

She was suddenly on the verge of tears once more. Her huge blue eyes, so like her mother and her grandmother’s, were filled with pain and sorrow.

Mary sat down on the sofa beside her granddaughter, and placing her arm around the girl’s slim shoulders she said gently, ‘What is it, my love? There’s nothing you can’t tell me, I have heard it all. I love you, and I always will.’

She was terrified inside, wondered if the girl was going to tell her she was HIV positive. It was all you seemed to hear about lately. On the TV, the news. Everyone seemed to have it. So she braced herself for whatever was coming. No matter what it was, they would cope somehow. It was all they could do.

‘I’m pregnant, and I don’t know who the father is. I have no real recollection of anything as you know . . .’

Jordanna was crying now, really sobbing. And Mary was so relieved that it wasn’t a terminal disease that she was almost smiling with gratitude.

‘Look, Jordanna, things happen in life.
We
know that better than most people, darling. All I can say to you now is that a life coming into the world is something to celebrate. A gift from God himself. But if you don’t want to have this baby, I will understand, and I’ll even help you to arrange . . . whatever.’

Mary could not bring herself to say the word abortion. But she was quite willing to arrange just that if this child felt that was what she wanted to do.

Jordanna looked into her nana’s face then. ‘I am like her, ain’t I? Pregnant and without any idea who the father is. I hate meself for that, hate that I have so much of her inside of me. But I can’t have an abortion, I just couldn’t.’

Mary was so sorry for this girl who was the antithesis of her mother if she could only see that. She had
acted
like her mother, she had been destroyed by her, but she had nothing of that bitch in her at all.

‘Listen to me. You look like her, granted, but that is where the similarity between you ends, believe me. Now, you listen to me, and then let this be an end to it. You’ll be all right, but you have to put her out of your mind as I had to. She is a canker that taints everything around her and if you let her colour the rest of your life, then she will have won. This little child you’re carrying will be tainted by her, and so will anyone and everything that comes into your orbit. She is not right in the head, and you know that is true. Somehow she was born into this world with something missing, she has no kindness, no caring, no emotions like normal people. Once you accept that, as I have had to, and remember this is my daughter, my child, I am talking about, you will feel much better, believe me. I’ve watched you lose yourself because, somewhere in your silly fucking head, you thought you were like her, that she was your destiny. Well, she ain’t. I am your mother, to all intents and purposes, not her, and this child will have you as its mother, and you are bursting with love and caring. So please, Jordanna, just try and forget about Imelda, she is not worth the time or the effort. But, if you can’t do that, then don’t drag a child into all this; your mother did that twice, and I had to pick up the pieces. I am too old to be doing that again.’