Pat listened to Freddie with increasing fear. She knew Ozzy better than anyone, but she had still been buncing the last few years. Why not? He was never coming out, he didn't want to, so what the fuck did he want all this money for anyway?
He was gathering it up in shedloads and he was never going to be able to fucking spend any of it. She had started paying herself over the odds because she had felt that she deserved it, and after a couple of bonuses she had made it a regular thing.
She was terrified now. She knew Ozzy wouldn't hurt her physically, but she also knew he was capable of cutting her off without a backward glance, and, money or no money, she loved Oz, always had and always would.
She sat down at her desk and for the first time ever Freddie saw her looking vulnerable. It reminded him that Ozzy might be banged up but he was running the show. Had always run the show. He had dipped himself, on more than one occasion, and Jimmy must have smoothed it all over with Ozzy. It suddenly occurred to him just how fucking lucky he had been. Like Pat he had thought no further than that Ozzy was away for the long haul, and he had not allowed for the mind-set of a man who was marking his prison time by still making money.
'Can I leave Jimmy Junior with you tonight, Mum?'
Lena smiled. ''Course you can. You off out, love?'
Maggie grinned. 'Jimmy wants to take me out to dinner, he just rang. He is on his way home from the Isle of Wight, and he is in a really good mood.'
'You leave my little babes here, and you go and have a good time. Let him sleep over, he ain't done that for ages.'
'Okey doke. I'll drop him off later then.'
'You want a sandwich or something?'
'No thanks. Has Jackie been round?'
Lena sighed. 'Don't start me off about her, for fuck's sake. She was pissed out of her brains this morning and I tell you now, Mags, I love her, she's me daughter, but she is such hard work.'
She sat down at the small kitchen table and said conspiratorially, her voice a whisper even though there was no one else within earshot, 'She walks around with a can now, a Coke can that is full of vodka and she honestly thinks that no one knows, that no one's sussed it out, and that we think she is drinking fucking Coke. I am really worried about her, Mags, but what can I do?'
Maggie was always sad when she thought of her sister and her way of life. 'We've all tried, Mum, but until she decides to get help, it's a waste of time, ain't it.'
'At least Freddie is at home more these days. He is doing a marvellous job with that little fucker of his. He has been round here, and you wouldn't know him, girl. I still think he has a screw loose though. You could never trust that child. I don't think so, anyway.'
Maggie looked at her mother and she saw how much she had aged over the last few years. She was sorry to see her getting so old, even though she knew it had to happen. But her mother had always seemed so strong, had always made her feel safe and loved and cared for. Now Lena was starting to look old it was frightening, because one day that was going to be her.
She was into her thirties now, and even though she looked good, you couldn't fight age, not really. If you had ten facelifts and your whole body remodelled, you might look younger but you would still be fifty or sixty or whatever. Looking younger did not make you younger. Time passed, and the older you got the quicker it seemed to go.
'Do you think it might be worth talking to Freddie about Jackie?'
Maggie shrugged. 'I never talk to him unless I have to. He is the reason she bloody drinks anyway.'
'True, but I worry that one day I will get a phone call, or a message telling me she's dead. She is going yellow, Mags, and it's her liver, I know it is.' Maggie could see the worry and fear etched on her mother's face, and she felt the sting of tears. 'I love you, Mum.'
Lena flapped her hand at her daughter and laughed. But Maggie knew she was pleased she had said it. They were not really that kind of family, they didn't hug or touch too much. But she wanted her mother to know that she did love her.
All day, every day, she loved her.
Freddie had decided to actually do the work he was supposed to be getting on with. He needed time to think, and seeing Pat like that had thrown him because he had a feeling that Jimmy would be in the know about everything. He also had a feeling that Jimmy was about to inherit the houses along with everything else.
He was so fucking angry. Jimmy was walking off with everything and, without him, he would not have even known Ozzy existed. That meant Jimmy owed him a slice of the very lucrative pie he was going to inherit from Ozzy.
Freddie felt hard done by. Here he was running all over the Smoke picking up money and sorting out problems in clubs, pubs and eateries, and where was Jimmy? Sitting on his ring, doing fuck all.
He stormed into a drinking club in Brixton that owed them a weekly take, and saw Glenford Prentiss standing at the bar. Glenford waved him over and Freddie forced a smile on to his face as he said happily, 'All right, all's well then, I take it?'
Glenford grinned. 'Always good me, and you?'
Freddie shrugged nonchalantly. 'All the better for seeing you. Want a drink?'
They were served immediately, and Glenford watched as Freddie downed the large whisky he had ordered in one large gulp. He was given another one straightaway.
'You needed that, eh?' Glenford was sipping his own drink, a pint of Draught Guinness, and savouring it.
'Wouldn't you if you were me?' Freddie looked annoyed.
Glenford didn't answer him, he was not getting involved in any kind of conversation that revolved around slagging off Jimmy, work, or anything else, other than the mundane and the fucking boring.
'Seen anything of Jimmy?'
Glenford nodded. ''Course, he is my friend.' He could see that the answer was not what Freddie had wanted to hear.
Freddie didn't respond to him. He sipped at his Scotch and his scowl was once more back in evidence.
Freddie and Jimmy were so alike, and yet so different. Freddie, he noticed, looked good for his age, but he had that petulant look about him that was peculiar to white men. It was odd, but there were a lot of disappointed-looking white men walking around. It was mad, but it was a fact.
Freddie had that look. He was a big man, with a big, powerful physique, and that was what made him look so disaffected. He was still handsome, still had the look that women loved. Glenford had seen the man in action and he had to take his hat off to him. But Freddie's disposition meant that no matter what he got, he would never be happy.
It was a shame, because he had been given more opportunities than most men could even hope for.
Freddie was now eyeing up a girl at the end of the bar. She was mixed race, in her early twenties and Glenford had considered giving her the old Prentiss charm. But he watched in admiration as Freddie turned from morose and scowling to cheerful and carefree. Skirt could do that to a man, and Freddie was only happy when he was conquering someone or something.
Seeing him now, with his smiling face and his jokey voice, he knew no one would believe that this was the same man who had walked in not ten minutes ago looking fit to be tied and up for a fight. It was like a miracle, and the girl was thrilled with herself.
Glenford toyed with the idea of telling the girl what to expect, how Freddie would romance her, bed her and then own her until he got fed up. But she was already walking towards them with a huge grin and a sultry swagger, and he decided to let her find all that out for herself.
So he drank his beer and listened with half an ear until Freddie finally went in for the kill.
'Oh Jimmy, it's beautiful.'
Maggie stared in awe at the watch her husband had presented her with. It was a gold Rolex, and she loved it. She had wanted one for a while, and now she had it and she was absolutely delighted with it.