‘Not now, you silly tart!’ Tom barked, brushing the woman away. ‘Can’t you see I’m bloody busy?’ And even if he wasn’t busy, he wouldn’t want a go with her.
He glanced contemptuously at the woman’s veined, saggy breasts half-hanging out of her light pink top and cringed. For fuck’s sake, surely they could do better than this lot? Good job the punters were all so wasted by the time they moved on to the women, they didn’t notice quite how bashed with the ugly stick they all were.
Shrugging, Tom swigged from his vodka and continued flicking through his notebook, gratified by last weeks’ takings. Very nice…
And Jock had the audacity to initially doubt whether the gambling side of things would be a goer? Well, he could eat his words now because out of the three sides of this venture, the gambling was the most lucrative at this time.
Pulling out his cigarettes, Tom sparked one up. But that would soon be changing. Jock’s earlier visit had proved as much. Another successful infiltration of a patch. Okay, so on this occasion it was necessary for the runner to be roughed up, but shit happens.
Now they’d got control of that particular patch, it was one up the nose for the Stoker firm because it was one of their patches.
Tom glanced around his tiny office on the first floor of the Aurora. A few more weeks and he’d be able to kit out this place a lot better. At the very least, he’d make his office more fitting for his station. He eyed the cheapo desk in front of him with disdain. That could go for a start. He’d get himself one of those posh, solid wood ones, like the ones in old films.
Leaning back on his chair, he stopped abruptly, feeling the plastic bending under his weight. A proper desk chair was in order too.
Tom pulled out a wrap of cling film from his pocket and carefully cut a line of cocaine on his desk. Chopping at it with his switch card, he fashioned it into a nice thick line, then hoovered it up his nose through a rolled-up fiver. Now there would be a lot more of this for his own consumption at no extra cost, too.
Feeling the burn at the back of his nose and the rush building in his head, Tom grinned, his heart pounding as the cocaine took effect. Today was a good day and it would be even better by later on.
He yanked at the stiff desk drawer and pulled out the piece of paper where he’d scribbled down the address he’d found. Now he could post that letter.
Tom’s face split into a grin. Or he could nail it to the front door along with a mouldy chicken? At least that would save a stamp… Tempting as it was, realistically that was a no-go unfortunately.
He’d get to the post box and then, after that, the first port of call was to check out the address and make a decision when to start the blackmail. It didn’t matter whether he started with Reynold or Stoker. It was irrelevant which of them had purchased that slag Linda’s kid. Rumours stuck better than the truth and if he played his cards right, he’d get a proper pay-out for keeping schtum. Now Maynard knew he was back, he would come in useful too.
Tom’s eyes glistened with excitement. Maynard would not want anything mentioned that could cause him problems. And he could cause Maynard plenty of problems. Big problems.
Judith stared at her husband and felt like bursting into tears all over again. She’d been crying since it happened, including the best part of last night and most of the day. She glanced at Seb, standing at her side in the doorway of Mal’s private room off the coronary ward, and smiled weakly.
‘He’s okay, Ma. Just asleep. I tell you what, you sit with him and I’ll leave you to it for a while. Give you some time to chat when he wakes up.’ Seb kissed his mother on the cheek and left the room.
He didn’t like seeing his mother upset like this and neither did he like seeing his big, strapping father reduced to lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by wires and bleeping machines. He liked it even less that someone should cast doubts about his mother’s reputation. Doubts that one of his own brothers thought to question?
Seb’s anger simmered. The bastard who thought they could steam in and cause problems with his family would be dealt with sooner rather than later and, if things went to plan, that would happen tonight.
As Seb left the room, the shutting of the door caused Mal to stir. Blinking, he adjusted his eyes to the bright overhead strip lights. Seeing his wife, he smiled. ‘Hello, love.’
‘Oh, Mal!’ Judith cried, rushing towards the bed. Bending down, she planted a kiss on his cheek. ‘You gave me a right scare. You gave all of us a scare!’
Mal motioned for Judith to sit on the plastic chair at the head of his bed, dismayed to see her hands trembling and her eyes red and swollen from crying.
He loved his Judith to bits. There wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for her. His resolve strengthened. The last thing he wanted was to inadvertently put his darling wife through pain and worry.
Okay, so it had cost him a bloody small fortune over the years keeping her in posh frocks and the latest household gadgets. Christ, he’d even bought her a brand-new video recorder at the first opportunity, betting at the time even the Queen was getting hers on the tick from Radio Rentals. And none of that included the house Judith insisted he bought. Or the holidays…
But he wouldn’t change her for the world. She’d stuck faithfully by his side whilst he’d built the business up; she’d turned a blind eye to all the comings and goings that she knew were far from legit, but best of all, she’d given him four strapping sons. For that alone, he couldn’t have been more grateful.
The day Sebastian was born, Mal had thought all of his boats had come in. He’d been the proudest father ever. With Seb’s dark hair and green eyes, he was a chip off the old block – a heir for the nicely growing business. Then along came the twins, Andrew and Neil, and finally Gary – the one they’d never expected, nor planned for. The runt of the litter, with a different constitution to the other three, but it hadn’t mattered. He loved them all.
And, Mal thought with a smug smile, his sons were the one thing he’d always have over Len Reynold… Although that rivalry wasn’t quite as acute after the man’s decency when he’d collapsed at the meeting yesterday.
He glanced at the cuff monitoring his blood pressure with growing annoyance. As much as he hated to admit it, having a turn like this had put the fear of God into him. He’d thought for a moment that his time was up, which further underlined how much he dreaded leaving Judith. He also knew what it meant.
Judith took Mal’s hand, snapping him from his thoughts. ‘Mal, I…’
‘You don’t need to say anything, love. I know…’ Mal said, squeezing her hand gently.
‘You know? Know what?’ Judith said, panic audible. Had the doctors diagnosed something she wasn’t aware of? Something worse?
‘I know what you’re going to say,’ Mal continued. ‘But you don’t need to. You’re right – it’s time.’
Seeing Judith’s confusion, Mal smiled. ‘I’m retiring, love. I’m too old for this game now.’ He gestured to the electrodes covering his chest. ‘Someone’s trying to tell me something and I think it’s about time I listened, don’t you?’
Judith’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears of relief. ‘Oh, Mal! You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that! I was going to beg you again, but I never thought you’d hear of it.’
Mal grinned. ‘I’m not driving myself into the ground any longer. Especially not whilst I have you.’
‘Do you really mean it this time?’ Judith asked, her eyes wide. ‘You’re not just saying it only to change your mind once you’re out of here? I know what you’re like, Malcolm Stoker.’
Mal chuckled. He had indeed promised this very same thing several times, but this time he meant it. ‘I promise. The boys are more than capable and Seb can take his rightful place.’
‘Have you said anything to him yet?’ Judith asked, happiness bubbling.
‘Not yet, but I’ll tell Seb soon.’
‘Tell me what?’ Seb said, entering the room, a cup of coffee in each hand.
‘That from now on you’re in charge of running the Peacock and official head of the Stoker firm,’ Mal grinned. ‘Your time has come, son, because I’m bowing out. Me and your mother are going to spend some long overdue quality time together. Perhaps starting with a cruise.’