‘How much?’
Shirley was getting embarrassed about her mother. Every time a waiter passed, she grabbed what he had to offer, whether it was food or drink. She was eating and drinking for two, all right, Shirley thought wryly, and now she was at least three sheets to the wind. All her life Shirley had seen her mother behave like this at parties. She remembered as a kid hearing the taxis pulling up at three or four o’clock in the morning and watching out of her bedroom window as Audrey crawled out onto the pavement.
Audrey was getting ready for a singsong now, looking round for a piano.
Oh no, Shirley thought.
Audrey grabbed Micky’s arm as he came past. ‘Where’s the old joanna, Micky?’
Micky smiled and whispered something in Audrey’s ear that made her roar with laughter. Shirley noticed that Micky never touched a drink. He was still immaculate, still perfectly groomed, while some of the other partygoers had begun to look distinctly worse for wear. She watched him guiding Audrey across to a table, telling her that she should take the weight off her feet, a woman in her condition. Shirley lit a cigarette. Micky seemed to be ignoring her. He left Audrey and started circulating round the room, chatting away, a friendly word for everyone, his smile showing his perfect teeth.
Shirley wanted to hit him. She wanted to hit him even more when she saw Micky putting his arm round an attractive, dark-haired woman. The woman stiffened, made to push him away, but he just laughed. Shirley remembered her coming in with the huge black guy. She wondered what the hell Micky was playing at, and began to thread her way through the crowd toward him.
Micky copped Shirley on the move and eased away. She was getting on his nerves, following him round. He glanced up the stairs. It looked like Rintle was in; he’d certainly been up there longer than all the others.
Up in the office, Harry had his arm round Rintle’s shoulders as he opened the office door for him.
Rintle turned. ‘One thing you should know, Harry, before some prick tells you. I’m with Jackie, Jackie Rawlins. Eddie’s old lady.’
For a moment Harry didn’t know who he was talking about. Eddie? Then it hit him: his cousin.
He shrugged. ‘That’s your business. She’s a lovely girl.’
Harry was smiling as he closed the door. But as soon as he was alone, it changed. His face became a mask of fury. He made a fist and was about to pound the desk with it when the door opened again. He looked up and Jackie Rawlins was standing there.
‘Well, well, so the bastard’s alive an’ well, is he? Wondered how long it’d take for you to surface.’
Harry took a deep breath. ‘Hello, Jackie. Long time no see.’
He poured Jackie a large vodka and tonic with ice and lemon, then handed it to her. Jackie’s eyes were dark, her face was angular, her nose a little too big, but somehow it looked right on her. She was a sensual woman; even after two kids her body was still firm and strong. He’d always wondered what she saw in Eddie: big, soft, stupid Eddie.
Jackie sat down and sipped her drink. Then she placed the glass on the desk and lit a cigarette. After a couple of deep drags, she stubbed it out, took a breath, stood up and let him have it with both barrels.
‘How could you fuckin’ do it, Harry? Your own fuckin’ cousin! You didn’t just walk out on him — you let him rot in prison.’
Jackie picked up her drink and took a gulp. Her eyes were filling up, but she didn’t want to cry; not until she’d said all she came to say.
‘They got him in the hospital now. He’s cracked up. He don’t even know me half the time. I hate you! You must have known what prison’d do to him — an’ he thought all along you’d see him right, but you never so much as sent him a tenner. He took the rap for you, Harry, an’ never mentioned your name. You owe him, you owe his kids. You’re his cousin, you bastard. Now he doesn’t even know who he is.’
Harry watched her, the way her nostrils flared when she was angry, the way she held her head high, tossing her thick, black, glossy hair away from her face, the gold chain swinging on her neck.
He waited until she was finished, then opened up his wallet and took out a thick bundle of notes. He walked round and pushed the roll down the front of her dress. She breathed in hard. Her heavy breasts felt warm to the touch.
She smiled, all her rage gone. ‘I know what all this is about, Harry. I’ve seen it all before: you putting a team together, are you?’ Jackie stroked his thigh, moving her hand up toward his groin. ‘Just leave Harvey out of it, for me, Harry. That’s all I ask. He’s a decent man. He’s looking after me an’ the kids.’
Harry pulled away.
‘I love him, Harry. I really love him.’
Harry shook his head, then laughed, grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him. ‘You leave that big lump alone and you’ll get this every month.’
Jackie backed away from him. ‘Please, Harry, don’t get him involved in anything. He’s straight.’
Harry let her prattle on, bleating about her precious man. Straight! She had no idea that her precious lover belonged to the highest bidder. Suddenly he wanted Jackie out; she was beginning to bore him.
He took her by the elbow. ‘Whatever you say, darlin’. Just take care o’ the kids. There’s more coming your way, a lot more.’
Harry felt better about Eddie now. Not that his conscience had bothered him — but five grand should at least shut Jackie’s mouth. He opened the door.
‘Oh, one thing, Jackie. You’ve not heard or seen anything from Dolly?’
Jackie shook her head, then looked up into his face, his handsome, smiling, arrogant face. She’d often wondered why on earth he’d ever married Dolly. She had seemed so plain, so straight, compared to all the other women Harry had run round with. Jackie had never really thought about Dolly, what Harry must have put her through.
She looked up at him, touched him lightly on the cheek. ‘She always knew about us, Harry. She knew, but never said.’
Harry shrugged. He didn’t care about all that. ‘You haven’t seen her, then?’
‘No one’s seen her, Harry.’ Jackie almost smiled. She’d heard Dolly had cleaned Harry out, and in a way she was pleased: good on her, bitch that she was. When Dolly had somehow found out about Jackie and Harry, she had never allowed Jackie to set foot in her house again. The reason was never mentioned, but the invites stopped, and the Christmas presents — even for the kids. Dolly had totally cut them out of her life — as if what happened outside her beloved home couldn’t touch her.
Well, it had. In the end, Harry had cut her out of his life. He’d let her bury a stranger. Jackie shivered. For the first time, she felt truly sorry for Dolly — sorry because she was too damned stupid to see through the bastard she had lived with for twenty years. As Jackie was gently pushed out of the office, she wondered what Dolly Rawlins was feeling now.
If she were in Dolly’s place, she would want revenge.
Fuller could get nothing out of Gordon Murphy. He still refused to admit to his own name. Sitting there, eyes half-closed, chain-smoking — maybe when his cigarettes ran out he’d be easier to break. Fuller felt exhausted. He looked at his watch. Maureen was probably busy on his jackets by now.
Reynolds, with a plaster across his nose, was standing outside the interview room. He jerked his head toward the Chief’s office. Fuller sighed and walked down the corridor. He looked through the glass window and saw Saunders still talking to Sonny Chizzel. Chizzel now looked tired and deflated, a sad, pink-faced little man with all the air let out of him. Saunders saw Fuller through the window and joined him in the corridor.
‘Sonny’s chatting away like an old parrot,’ Saunders told him with a grin. ‘Not all of it of interest to us, of course, but one or two interesting things have come up. He had a call from a woman, for instance. He swears he doesn’t know who it was, but she had mentioned Harry Rawlins, said she had something of his. Another interesting titbit: there is a big bash, a private party down at Arnie Fisher’s place. Seems Sonny was on his way there. And now we’ve got Gordon Murphy wearing his DJ, so maybe he was on his way there, too.’