The last Friday of the month had come round quickly. Lash had been training hard and convinced Georgina he was ready for the fight. They sat in the back of the car with Johnny in the front and Victor driving, heading for Liverpool. Varvara had been left in Battersea to look after the fort and Georgina inwardly smiled. Varvara had willingly stepped up to the mark and dressed elegantly in her masculine-style trouser suits, which Georgina thought looked quite the part.
‘My family will be in Battersea by Sunday. My pa will be a proud man and there’ll be celebrations like you’ve never seen before,’ Lash said to Georgina.
‘Because you’re going to win this fight?’
‘And because I have a beautiful new wife.’
‘Are we invited to the party, Lash? I love a good knees-up,’ Johnny said.
‘Of course. You haven’t seen a good knees-up ’til you’ve been to a gypsy celebration.’
‘Great, but let’s stay focused for now, eh? We’re not out on a Beano,’ Georgina said. Her stomach churned with nerves and she felt giddy.
‘Are you all right?’ Lash asked. ‘You look very pale.’
Georgina nodded, too afraid to open her mouth for fear of vomit spewing from it.
‘You’re not, are you?’ Lash pressed.
‘I feel sick,’ Georgina managed to answer quietly. ‘Shush, don’t make a fuss.’
‘How long have you been feeling like this?’
‘Just this morning. It’s this bloody fight, it’s getting to me.’
Georgina watched a smile spread across Lash’s face. ‘What’s that look for?’ she asked him.
Lash leaned in to her and whispered in her ear, ‘I thought for a minute that you might be with child, Georgina.’
She gasped and stared back at him in disbelief. ‘No… not yet. I’m not ready for that yet.’
‘Soon though, eh?’
‘What’s that?’ Johnny asked.
‘I was just telling Georgina that I’m looking forward to being a—’ Lash started to say.
But Georgina quickly cut in, ‘Champion. Lash will be the official undefeated champion.’
She saw the hurt look in Lash’s eyes and squeezed his hand as she whispered, ‘No talk of babies in front of the men.’
This seemed to placate Lash and the rest of the journey passed quietly, which pleased Georgina as it gave her time to think. Pregnancy and childbirth hadn’t been on her agenda yet. She knew Lash wanted a big family but she hadn’t considered that he’d want to start so soon. Her mind was a whirl with questions, none of which she could answer. If she fell pregnant, could she continue in her position with the business? Would she be putting an unborn child at risk? Would she be a good mother? Could she love a child in the way Molly loved Edward? Did she even want a baby? She churned the questions over and with no answers, her mind once again focused on the enormity of the outcome of the impending fight. Before she knew it, they’d arrived in Liverpool.
As the car weaved its way through the bustling docks, she stared out of the window at the impressive Liver building that overlooked the wharf. The place reminded her a little of London – imposing buildings of rich architecture contrasting with dilapidated and damp-looking dwellings. The sudden sound of the car horn made her jump.
Victor leaned out of the window and shouted, ‘Get out the fucking way,’ and waved his hand to encourage a group of young lads to step to one side.
It was a busy area. Ships lined the docks and all around them men were grafting, carrying huge sacks of merchandise on their shoulders. She saw many children begging and quite a few women touting for business. Then as they came to the end of the quay, she spotted Kevin Kelly’s car parked with several others outside an isolated building.
It was quieter up here, away from the large merchants’ buildings and the unloading bays. Georgina could see why Kevin had chosen to live and work from here. There was a tranquillity close to the water’s edge and the building offered privacy.
‘We’re here,’ she said gravely.
As Victor pulled up outside, two of Kevin’s men casually held their guns towards them. It seemed to be the natural way they greeted visitors. Then she saw Kevin appear in the large doorway, a cigarette in one hand and a glass in the other. She couldn’t hear what he said but his henchmen put their guns away.
Lash took Georgina’s hand and helped her out of the car. She straightened her elegant but simple purple dress, pulled her fur stole around her shoulders and clutching her handbag, she sauntered towards the head of the Pounders.
‘Miss Garrett, I trust you had a good journey?’
‘Yes, thank you, Mr Kelly.’
‘Please, come in. There’s refreshments prepared and a couple of rooms available for your use. After all, we want to ensure our fighter here is well rested and prepared for tonight’s bout. Lash, pleased to meet you,’ Kevin said and put his cigarette in his mouth to extend a hand to him.
Georgina followed Kevin into the building and found herself impressed by the tasteful décor.
‘Designed by my third wife,’ Kevin told her as her eyes flitted around the panelled walls and gilded furniture. ‘But now my fourth wife wants to change it all. Women, eh, no offence.’
‘None taken,’ Georgina answered as they entered the main reception room and then her opinion of the décor changed.
A long table stretched through the middle with heavy dark wood and burgundy chairs. A luxurious buffet was spread across crisp white table linen under an overbearing chandelier. The food looked fancy but didn’t appeal to Georgina as she was still feeling queasy. Her eyes went from the table to a huge oil painting over the marble fireplace and there she saw a life-size portrait of Kevin Kelly standing alongside a racehorse.
‘The wife commissioned it,’ Kevin said, almost sounding embarrassed.
‘It’s very flattering,’ Georgina lied, thinking it was ridiculously ostentatious.
‘The trouble is, I treat my wives like queens so they’ve done the place up like a fucking palace. Every time I get a new wife, she wants to outdo the last one. Mabel’s just finished this room. As you can see, her taste is… unique.’
Georgina glanced around the room at the Italian-style statues, the stuffed animals that looked as if they were coming out of the walls and the two red velvet and gold chairs next to the fireplace, which she could only describe as thrones.
‘I drew the line at having the ceiling painted like the Sistine Chapel.’
Georgina smiled at Kevin. He didn’t seem quite as intimidating when he spoke about his wives. She’d have liked to meet his latest one and Kevin appeared to read her mind.
‘Mabel will be out later to see the fight. She’s looking forward to meeting you. Anyway, I’ll leave you to rest after your drive here. Help yourself to the spread and Michael here will show you your rooms. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.’ Kevin swaggered towards the door, puffing on his cigarette and leaving a trail of smoke behind him. Then he turned back to Georgina. ‘By the way, I assume you have the diamonds with you?’
‘No. Why would I? My man isn’t going to lose.’
‘We’ll see about that. And when he does, you’d better be ready to produce.’
There it was, a gentle threat. Georgina had been wondering for how long he’d keep up the nice guy act. As it turned out, not for very long!
Kevin left and Georgina quickly pulled out a heavy chair from under the table and flopped down. Her legs felt shaky. She knew it was fear. Lash rested his hand on her shoulder.
‘Don’t worry, I won’t let you down,’ he said quietly.
She patted his hand and tried to swallow but her mouth felt dry. So much rested on the fight tonight – her reputation, money and their lives.
*
Mickey sat in Frank’s small back garden and though the sun was shining, he had a blanket over his legs. Frank had acquired the wooden chair with wheels for him. The wheels were rickety but it made his life a bit easier. Mickey couldn’t manoeuvre himself but Frank was able to push him.
‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ Frank’s wife called from the back door.
‘No,’ Mickey answered, unable to bring himself to be polite to the woman.
He’d heard her last night, going on to Frank again about him staying with them. She didn’t want Mickey in the house and resented caring for him. Frank had told her to shut up but she’d kept on and on and on. What was it she’d called him? Oh yes, Mickey remembered her words – a useless shitting piss bucket cripple who should sit outside the station and beg for his keep. She hadn’t minced her words or hidden her contempt for him.
Mickey ground his teeth as anger simmered. It wasn’t his fault he was reliant on them. He hadn’t put the bullet in his spine. He couldn’t force his mother and brother to look after him. He hated being in this situation, clearly unwanted and an obvious burden. Still, Frank’s missus never went short and as far as Mickey was concerned, she had fuck all else to do so why not make her graft for a change.
The warmth of the sun’s rays on Mickey’s cheeks disappeared as it slipped behind a grey cloud. There’d only be a few more weeks left of summer. Autumn followed, then Christmas would be soon on them. It would be different this year. He wouldn’t sit at the same table as his mother or brother. In fact, he hoped they choked on turkey bones.
‘I’m going shopping,’ Frank’s wife called from the kitchen.
Mickey went to shout back to tell her to bring him inside, but she’d already gone. ‘Fuck it,’ he mumbled as the temperature dropped and the sky darkened. He desperately tried to turn the wheels of the chair but they wouldn’t budge. ‘You’ve done this on purpose, you fucking bitch,’ he screeched as he felt raindrops on his cheeks.
He took the blanket from his legs and wrapped it around his head and shoulders. But following a huge clap of thunder, the skies opened and heavy rain began to pour. The blanket was soon wet through and Mickey was left shivering and soaked.
As his teeth chattered, a dark mood descended on him. This was no way to live and Mickey couldn’t see it ever getting better. He wished the bullet had killed him instead of leaving him incapacitated. He couldn’t continue like this. Yes, Frank had big plans for them both, but Mickey knew, in reality, he couldn’t do it, not in this condition. ‘I might as well be dead,’ he said solemnly, and his mind was made up.
Now that he’d made his decision, it felt as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and for the first time in a long while, Mickey smiled. He was ready to die. But he didn’t plan on going alone. He’d fulfil his last wish – to take Georgina Garrett with him to her death.
*
‘Sitting there suits you,’ Benjamin said, ‘but don’t get used to it.’
Varvara placed her hands on Georgina’s desk and leaned back in the seat. It felt good to be in her boss’s shoes and finally, she could command respect. ‘Don’t worry, Mr Harel. I have no illusions of being in charge. But yes, this is better for me not to be a whore, yes?’
‘Yes, erm, no, what?’ Benjamin said and pushed his glasses up his nose, looking confused. ‘Varvara, how long have you lived in England?’
‘All of my life. I have never visited the mother land.’
‘So why do you speak with such a strong Russian accent?’
‘It was forbidden to speak English in my home and I received no schooling. So this is how I sound. Many men think it is sexy. You think it is sexy, Mr Harel?’ she teased. It amused her to see him looking flummoxed.
Benjamin cleared his throat. ‘I, erm, think it’s very exotic.’
‘Pew, you queer men. You are very funny but I prefer exotic, or strong. To sound strong like Miss Garrett would be good, no?’
‘Erm, yes, I think. You do sound strong, Varvara, and you certainly look strong. Like an Amazon warrior woman.’
‘What is this amazing warrior woman?’
‘Amazon. It’s a river in a jungle.’
‘You think I am like a Zulu?’ Varvara asked, surprised at his opinion of her.
‘No, a Zulu is from Africa.’
‘I think the Zulu is from the jungle.’
‘Completely different continents. Look, it doesn’t matter. What I was trying to say is you look impressive… and capable. I’d feel safe if I knew you was committed to me like you are to Miss Garrett.’
This pleased Varvara and she grinned at Benjamin. It was the only time she could remember offering a genuine smile to a man. ‘You know, before I went to live with Dina’s family, I was the daughter of a Russian baker and he made the best bread in Battersea.’
The door flew open and Gwyneth, the prostitute who’d replaced Varvara, burst in looking flush-faced and breathless.
‘Knock next time and wait to be told to enter. What do you want?’ Varvara asked sternly. She was sure Gwyneth wouldn’t have so rudely intruded if Miss Garrett had been present.
‘I’ve got a customer upstairs who said he ain’t gonna pay me.’
‘Why is he still here? Is he waiting to be beaten?’
‘No,’ Gwyneth squealed in her high-pitched voice, ‘I managed to shackle him to me bed post and took the money from his pocket.’
‘So, what is the problem?’
‘I’m scared he’s gonna go for me when I let him go, ain’t I.’
‘Of course. Come,’ Varvara said and marched from the office and upstairs. She thrust open the bedroom door and saw a podgy man in a vest and baggy trousers, handcuffed to the bed and looking rather annoyed. Varvara spotted a cane on the floor by the side of the bed and picked it up, then swiftly lashed it across the man’s face.
The thrash took him by surprise and he looked at Varvara with wide eyes. ‘Gwyneth will release you now and you will leave. You are not welcome here again,’ she said and rifled through his pockets. ‘For my expenses,’ she said and took his remaining money.
The man didn’t argue and once freed, hurriedly gathered the rest of his clothes before running out of the door. They heard him stumble down the stairs and Varvara watched from the window as he scuttled up the street.
‘Back to work,’ she told Gwyneth and returned to the office.
Benjamin looked at her with raised eyebrows and remarked, ‘He left in rather a hurry.’
‘I think because he valued his life,’ Varvara answered.
‘There, I told you. You are strong and capable. That chap obviously thought so too. Miss Garrett will be pleased with your work.’
Varvara hoped so.
‘But I’m afraid we have a problem developing. I’ve just taken a telephone call. It’s Cyril, the old man at the bike shop. He’s been taking bets on the fight tonight, big wagers that he’s not even sure he can cover. He’s been offering better odds than the Maynards and now he’s heard that Maynard’s blokes have got wind of it.’
‘Miss Garrett specifically told him not to accept any bets regarding the fight. He is supposed to send punters to Maynard’s men, especially the big spenders. He shouldn’t be accepting large bets for anything. What is that silly old man playing at?’
‘I don’t know but you’d better get down there quick and sort it out.’
‘OK, but maybe Mr Maynard will send his men here?’
‘Oh, shit. I hadn’t thought of that. Stay here, just in case.’
Varvara could hear the fear in Benjamin’s voice and guessed he didn’t want to be alone to deal with them. ‘Fine. Any suggestions what I should tell them?’
‘No, but I suppose wait and see what they have to say.’
Varvara leaned her head back and closed her eyes as she thought, what would Miss Garrett do?
‘No! I will deal with this now,’ she said and picked up the telephone.
‘What are you doing?’ Benjamin asked and she sensed the panic in his voice.
‘I’m going to speak to David Maynard. That is how Miss Garrett would deal with this.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Varvara. It’s one thing for Miss Garrett to call him, but I don’t think it would be the correct protocol for you to ring him.’
‘Why not? Because I am just a whore?’
‘No, Varvara. Because you are not the boss. Only bosses speak to bosses in this world.’
Varvara replaced the receiver. Perhaps Benjamin was right. But Cyril had now left them in a vulnerable position. David Maynard would know Georgina was in Liverpool. The bicycle shop and Cyril could be in imminent danger, as were she and Benjamin. She was very aware that friendship between gangsters meant nothing if one thought the other was double-crossing them. ‘Mr Harel, please contact the Barker twins and instruct them to guard the bike shop. Have Ned escort Cyril here. Tell him to bring all the betting slips and the money. I will give it to Mr Maynard and any winning bets that are over the odds, we will pay the difference.’
‘But that could be a small fortune! We have no idea what odds Cyril has given out or to how many people. It’s a huge risk, Varvara.’
‘It is better to pay money than be shot, no?’
‘I, erm, suppose so but I don’t think Miss Garrett will be pleased.’
‘No, I don’t think she will, but this is Cyril’s fault. We are just cleaning up his mess.’
Benjamin nodded and got on the telephone whilst Varvara hoped it wouldn’t come down to any blood being spilt. Yet she’d been around people like David Maynard long enough to know that money was worth more to men like him than a life was.
An hour later, with Cyril and Ned tucked away in the back room, Varvara saw a dark car pull up outside. ‘Here we go,’ she told Benjamin and waited at her desk as Gwyneth showed David Maynard into the office. His driver waited in the car. She thought this was a healthy sign.
Varvara rose to her feet to greet the man but he didn’t look pleased to be there. She was immediately struck by how young he looked, and though she didn’t like men, she acknowledged his good looks. ‘Good day, Mr Maynard. I am Varvara, pleased to meet you,’ she said. She thought the fear in her voice showed and she wasn’t nearly as composed as Miss Garrett would be. It was one thing to play boss, but now realised she was out of her depth.
‘So, Miss Garrett has left a Russian tart in charge. Well she’s either original or very misguided.’
‘I know why you are here and can I firstly apologise for the inconvenience and assure you that Miss Garrett will be furious when she returns and discovers the terrible mistake Cyril has made.’
‘As I thought, you lot are going to deny knowing anything about what your man was up to. You were hoping you’d get away with it and cash in. How unfortunate for you that I stumbled on your little scheme.’
‘Honestly, I can assure you, Mr Maynard, we were as much in the dark about Cyril’s activities as you were. In fact, you probably knew about it before we did.’
‘Honestly… did a tart just say to me, honestly? Don’t make me laugh. Actually, I’ve been thinking on my way over here and I don’t reckon this is Miss Garrett’s style. I wouldn’t be surprised if you lot hatched this without her knowing to make a quick buck the minute her back is turned? When the cat’s away, the mice will play. Is that it, eh? Did you think you could get one over on her and me?’
‘No, Mr Maynard, no! I would protect Miss Garrett with my own life. I’d never deceive her. Never!’
‘Well, she talks with some passion, what about you, Jew boy?’
‘I, erm, err…’
‘I want to know what you’re proposing to do about it? And it had better be good because I don’t want to leave a bloody mess in Miss Garrett’s office.’
‘Actually, we have all the bets and monies here… for you. And we will pay out the difference on the winnings that were offered higher than your odds.’
‘I don’t think so. I’ll take the bets but you will be paying out every penny of all the wins, not just the difference. Cheeky fuckers, but it was a nice try.’
‘But… but we won’t have the money from the losing bets to cover the pay-outs.’
‘Your lookout, not mine. Unless you’d like to do it another way but I don’t suppose either of you want your faces rearranged?’
‘No, Mr Maynard. Thank you, I will accept your generous offer.’
‘And what are you going to do about this Cyril bloke? The one you say stitched you up? I mean, if it was one of my blokes there’d be no question about getting rid of him… for good.’
‘Yes, Mr Maynard, I’ll see to it.’
‘Fair enough. I’m sure Miss Garrett will be happy with the way you’ve handled things in her absence. You can tell her from me that if she’s got a problem with any of this, to come and see me.’
Varvara glanced across at Benjamin as David Maynard collected up the bets and left without bidding them goodbye.
‘Phew,’ Varvara said and steadied herself on Georgina’s desk. ‘I thought for a moment that he was going to kill us.’
‘Yes, me too. But what about Cyril? Maynard expects us to get rid of him.’
‘Then it will be done.’
‘You can’t… How?’
‘Shoot him.’
‘NO!’
‘Why?’
‘Because, err…err…’
‘Everyone who works for Miss Garrett must know their place,’ Varvara interrupted. ‘Cyril must die. I will see to it.’
‘Wait… please, Varvara… what would Miss Garrett do? She’s a compassionate woman. I’m sure she’d give Cyril another chance.’
‘No, I do not think so. Do you have a silencer on your gun?’
‘I don’t have a gun. You’re not going to kill him here?’
‘Yes, it is convenient. We will need another layer of wet concrete for the cellar.’
‘No, Varvara. I’m having nothing to do with this.’
‘Go, then. You have not the stomach.’
Benjamin pulled on his jacket and picked up his briefcase. ‘You’re making a terrible mistake,’ he said as he walked out of the door. ‘And Miss Garrett won’t thank you for this.’
‘I think she will,’ Varvara called after him. ‘I think she’ll thank me very much.’