The Life Page 13

  Lenny didn’t know he was Daniel’s son, at least he didn’t think he did. Lenny had lots of visitors, and Danny wondered if any of them had said who he was. He didn’t think so, because Lenny was always nice to him; he liked Lenny a lot. He was a good bloke.

  Young as he had been at the time, Danny had only visited at first to see who had been the cause of all the grief, and he had found himself going back again and again. Now, though, he went because he wanted to, not because of any ulterior motives.

  His Uncle Peter had found out about his visits. He had got him on his own and asked him how Lenny was faring; he had told him he was a good lad to go in and visit him. Said he thought he was growing up to be a good man, and he was keeping his eye on him. Danny liked that, had liked hearing it, even though he felt a twinge of disloyalty to his dad.

  It was his Uncle Peter who had asked him to look out for his brothers’ interests and, even though his father’s name had not been mentioned, Danny knew that he was also asking him to try and work by his father’s side, and keep his eye on the family businesses. His Uncle Peter did not want to be given any reason to chastise his father; Danny knew if that happened it would not end well for any of them. His father, for all his talk and bravado, was still heartbroken over the rift between him and Peter.

  Danny wondered how on earth he was supposed to smooth over this latest outrage, but he had to try. It was another step back for them all as a family, when he and his brothers had worked so hard to get this far. Damage limitation, that was what was needed. He almost smiled at the thought; he was becoming an expert at it.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Peter Bailey was in the offices of his new nightclub; it was noisy and the DJ was not his cup of tea – give him Etta James or a bit of Bob Marley any day – but he knew the clientele were loving it and that was all that mattered.

  He was quietly fuming. Daniel had once more caused a fucking scene, which he would, yet again, have to clean up. He had scarcely laid eyes on him in the years since the Alfie Clarke drama; they saw each other in church and that was it. But Peter kept close tabs on his brother – especially as far as the business went. He knew Daniel’s every move.

  He sipped his brandy, savouring the burn and, as his eldest nephew came into the room, he held his hand up, enjoying the last few moments before he had to deal with the aftermath of his brother’s actions.

  ‘Is he dead?’

  Danny shook his head. ‘No, but let’s just say Derek won’t be back in circulation for a good while. I’ve sorted him a private hospital with the best doctors. I’ve paid his wife off, and guaranteed all her bills are covered, including the school fees for the kids.’

  Peter nodded, it was what he had expected. ‘You’ve got to sort him out, Danny, once and for all. If you don’t, I am going to have to get involved personally. I’ve covered his arse once too often and this has got to stop.’

  Danny nodded humbly. ‘I know, Uncle Pete. We’ll take care of it.’

  ‘I know you will, son. Now, what’s this I hear about you, my Petey, and some problem with the debts?’

  When Danny slipped out half an hour later, Peter sat in his chair and, pouring himself another large brandy, he closed his eyes. He was tired tonight, tired and worried. He had so much riding on the next few years. He had invested in numerous new enterprises, from the drugs trade – which was so lucrative it was fucking outrageous – to gentlemen’s clubs with private dancers and guaranteed privacy. He had more clubs opening for this new generation of youngsters who were convinced that the only thing that mattered was getting out, getting drunk, and having a good time. He envied them being born into an era when responsibility was something from a bygone age, and where nothing really mattered except doing what the fuck you liked. The sixties had started the drug culture, the seventies had cemented it into the public psyche – thanks to pop stars who had glamorised it – and now the eighties were all about money, clothes and chemical highs. It was almost like printing money, it was so fucking lucrative. But, by the same token, it was also about keeping that part of the business as low profile as possible.

  Now his brother was not only attracting unwanted attention, but Peter was facing problems with his own sons. In particular Peter Junior – or Petey as he was known – who, it seemed, had more of his uncle in him than his own father. Petey believed he was more important than his father, his brothers, his uncle, his cousins – in fact, anyone else in his orbit. Peter had always perceived this weakness in his eldest son, this snide side to his personality; Petey had such an inflated opinion of his own worth it was frightening. But it was the lack of loyalty that was the real worry. Loyalty was paramount in the world they inhabited – it was what kept them out of stir, what kept them on the street. Petey was basically a bully, just like his uncle. He needed to be taught a lesson that he would not forget in a hurry, and tonight Peter intended to have it out with him.

  He sighed. Might as well get this over with. He knew Petey was down in the club and he picked up the phone to get him sent in. When Petey came in, looking decidedly sheepish, Peter let rip.

  ‘You had better explain yourself, boy. I know you have been claiming money in my name, and I will fucking take you out, seriously harm you, son or not, before I let you fuck up me, my brother or his family.’

  Petey looked at his father; he guessed his cousin had told his father the story. Even though he was ashamed of his actions, he still felt there was a justification. ‘I didn’t expect Danny to get the flak, I was supposed to go there myself. But Danny took it on himself to collect all the rents . . .’

  Peter closed his eyes in distress. Nothing could justify what had happened, what this son of his had done. He held his hand up to stop the flow of treachery in its tracks. ‘Are you trying to justify having me over? Are you that fucking stupid?’

  Petey didn’t answer. He knew when to keep a low profile.

  ‘Danny was trying to do you a favour and, because of you, he nearly got stabbed. Why would you rob your own, eh? You were taking money off me and my brother. Two earns, you jammy fucker, and it still wasn’t enough for you, was it, eh? If you weren’t my son, Petey, you would be a fucking dead man.’

  Petey was a realist and he knew when he was beaten. He was aware that his father knew exactly why he had done this. He was just waiting for him to come clean and throw himself on his mercy. It was pathetic. Petey was a grown man, and his father still treated him like a fucking child. ‘You know why, Dad. I owe money.’

  Peter looked at his eldest son, his namesake, and felt sick with shame. ‘You owe gambling money again? Have you learned nothing at all? I have earned off weak people like you all my life, and a gambler is the weakest of the weak. You know what gamblers are, don’t you? Fucking fools, mugs. They are the reason we own betting shops. We can’t fucking lose, you imbecile! If gambling was such a fucking doddle, don’t you think bookies would be few and far between? They’re on every high street in the country, waiting for fucking mugs like you to throw your money at them. Well, this is your last warning. You can’t go to any of the card venues around here. I’m making you persona non grata, my son. I’m making this personal to me and, believe me, there ain’t a person living who will give you a fucking chair anywhere. I’m giving you six months to get your act together. If you don’t sort yourself out, me and you are finished. You need a wife, a family – you need responsibilities, son. You need to fucking grow up!’

  Petey saw that his father was right, but he resented that his father did not pay his boys anywhere near what Daniel paid his sons. His father felt that they should live within the means he provided for them, yet he, himself, lived like a king.

  ‘I have listened to you, and I accept what you’re saying, Dad, but me and my brothers need to be paid the same as Uncle Daniel’s boys. You control everything about us – you always have, Dad, and we don’t like it. So, while we are being honest, let me say my piece. I want to be paid my due, and then maybe I wouldn’t have to scam for it. As for
a wife and family, how could I keep anyone on what you weigh out to us? I can’t even keep myself. And, as for my cards, I’m a grown man, and that is my prerogative. I’m twenty-four, Dad, not a fucking teenager. So, you think on what I’m saying, as I will on what you have said. I could get work anywhere and you know it.’

  Peter Bailey saw the truth in his son’s words but it didn’t mean he trusted him, weak fool that he was. Gamblers would always look for the quick buck, the easy money; they only saw money as something you got in a win, not something you worked for. This son of his, his own flesh and blood, was everything he loathed in other people. That Petey had been the cause of trouble for one of Daniel’s sons weighed heavily on his mind. To know that he had bred a Judas like this was anathema to him. How could this have happened? How had he produced such a fucking loose cannon? He hated to think it, but this lad had a lot of Daniel in him; he had the same arrogance, the same need to be noticed. Except Daniel knew the strength of an earn, whereas this cunt wanted it on a plate.

  Petey looked at his father, and he knew exactly what was going through his mind. He realised he had to rein himself in, but it rankled. He wanted to break out on his own, he wanted his own crew. He wanted everything, and sooner rather than later. His father was the past and Petey wasn’t willing to wait for years to take over the family business. He wanted it now. He didn’t have the firepower yet, but he would wait, and he would watch. Until then, he would toe the line – outwardly at least. For now, it was all he could do.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  ‘She’s gorgeous, Lena, look at her beautiful hair!’

  Tania could hear the compliments coming her way, and she preened with delight. All her life she had been told how beautiful she was, how clever she was, and how loved she was. Despite that, she still felt frightened when she was alone. It was only when she was surrounded by her family that she felt secure. She was learning to dance and she loved showing off what she’d learned.

  Lena watched her little daughter with absolute delight; this child was her life, the reason she got up in the morning. She was wholly Lena’s responsibility and, consequently, they were as close as they could possibly be.

  ‘She’s going to look a beauty in her Communion dress! We’d better get that sorted soon – you’ll help won’t you, Ria?’

  Ria nodded, and smiled at her friend kindly. ‘Mad really, ain’t it? My grandson’s making his Communion at the same time as Tania! They will look a picture together.’

  Lena nodded in agreement, but Ria knew she was dreading the actual day. Peter and Daniel would both be in the church together, and Ria knew that Peter would not acknowledge his brother in any way. Before the latest aggro it might have been a possibility, but now it was never going to happen.

  Ria had never been that fond of Daniel, whereas Lena had become a close friend from day one. Ria loved the boys – they were their father’s sons in looks, but none of them had inherited their father’s strange outlook on life, thank God. Daniel Bailey was a walking fucking psycho as far as she was concerned, and he was never going to change – Ria knew that as well as she knew her own name.

  Peter had always felt the need to defend his brother, but even he had finally had to admit defeat. She was pleased about that. She hated herself for it, but she had to be honest with herself if not with anyone else. Daniel being out of the picture was something she had celebrated. He was a liability and she was convinced he would be the eventual cause of the Baileys’ downfall, if they were not careful.

  ‘I wish we could enjoy the day together, Ria. You know, celebrate as a family.’

  It was the first time Lena had ever acknowledged the rift, which meant that Peter never visited this house now. Ria was so shocked at her words she didn’t answer her straightaway.

  Lena continued, ‘It hurts, Ria. Holy Communion is a big day in a child’s life – accepting the Body of Christ for the first time, making their first Confession. It’s a big step for them, and I wish we were going to celebrate it together.’

  Ria grasped her friend’s hand. Lena was looking older than her years lately; she still kept herself nice, but the weight of her worries had taken its toll. ‘I know, mate, and I wish it could be different too.’

  Lena held her friend’s gaze as she said quietly, ‘He ain’t right, Ria, he’s worse than ever. I’m worried about him.’

  Ria was absolutely dumbfounded at Lena’s words. In all the years they had known each other, Lena had never once discussed her husband in any way other than to praise him. For her to admit there was a problem of any kind was unheard of. If Daniel Bailey had murdered his neighbours with an axe, in front of an audience of fifty people, Lena would say, ‘Well, they must have upset him.’ She had never once said anything even remotely critical about the man she was married to. Now here she was, admitting the truth of the situation out loud. Ria knew it was her way of asking her to talk to Peter about it.

  Tania watched the exchange between her mother and her auntie. Even though she didn’t know what the problem was, she understood enough of the conversation to know that the problem could only be solved by her Auntie Ria. And Tania, as young as she was, could see from the way her Auntie Ria was shaking her head slowly, that she wasn’t going to do anything to help at all.

  Tania slipped her hand into her mother’s and, holding on to her tightly, she wondered why she was suddenly feeling frightened again.

  ‘It’s between them, Lena, you know that as well as I do, mate.’

  Lena nodded; she had expected nothing more if she was really honest. Looking down at her daughter, she smiled sadly, as she said with forced gaiety, ‘Who fancies a Wimpy, then?’

  Tania nodded in agreement, but she could see the glimmer of tears in her mother’s eyes. This must be about her dad, but she couldn’t for the life of her understand what was wrong because her daddy was the nicest man she knew.

  Her Uncle Peter was a nice man too, she thought. She knew that he was her father’s brother, even though she had never seen them talk to each other. She only ever saw them under the same roof at Mass, when they did not even look at one another. When she had asked her mother why that was, her mother had told her quietly and seriously – almost angrily – to never ask her father or her brothers that question.

  She had said it was something that was for the adults to know, and for children to mind their own business about. It was the one and only time her mother had seemed to be cross with her, and she had learned then not to ask any questions about the family.

  There were so many things she didn’t understand, and she accepted that she was too young to have them explained. But it didn’t stop her from taking in what was happening around her, and wondering what was going on. She was frightened of the unknown, but she knew that her mum would never let anything happen to her and neither would her daddy or her brothers. They were so much older than her but she knew they adored her – and they treated her like a princess. She worshipped her brothers – especially Davey – and she loved it when they were all around the house for their dinner, making a big fuss of her and her mum.

  But any happiness at the prospect of the treat in store was lost as Tania could feel the tension in the room. It was clear that her Auntie Ria was feeling as bad as she was, and that just made it seem ten times worse.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Daniel poured himself a large Scotch and, as he sipped it, he looked around him at his offices. They were a far cry from Peter’s upmarket domain, but he’d decided he preferred being in the heart of East London. He felt he could see to things much easier from here. That they were in a scrapyard, and the offices consisted of two Portakabins berthed side by side, meant nothing to him. All he saw was the fact that they were well guarded, not just by guard dogs, but by a large metal fence and electric gates. No fucker was coming in here without his knowledge, and that was just how he liked things.

  He heard the cars that heralded the arrival of his sons, and he watched warily as they parked up, and walked slo
wly towards his lair. He wondered what had brought them all to see him – together. They looked as miserable as sin.

  ‘What the fuck is the matter with you lot?’

  ‘You know what’s wrong with us, Dad. Davey told us what you did to Derek Thomas, and we’ve come to tell you that none of us is going to put up with your fucking stupid behaviour any more.’ Danny spoke for them all.

  ‘Hang on a minute, are you fucking threatening me?’ Daniel Bailey’s voice was bordering on the incredulous, and as he looked at his four sons it occurred to him that he was actually outnumbered. For the first time ever, he saw that his boys were not kids any longer.

  Davey, Noel and Jamsie were sitting together on the black leather sofa that had cost an arm and a leg. It was a huge piece of furniture, but still not big enough to hold his three youngest boys comfortably. They were seriously big lumps, grown men, and they were now, it seemed, prepared to front him up. Danny, his eldest, was standing by the doorway, as if he was keeping guard, making sure he couldn’t leave. It was fucking ludicrous! No one could stop him doing anything he wanted, surely they knew that by now?

  ‘No one’s threatening you, Dad. But we have to sort this out, once and for all.’

  Daniel Bailey looked at his eldest son; his words were so outrageous he was sure that he must have imagined them. He laughed incredulously. ‘What did you just fucking say?’

  Danny sighed heavily before repeating the words once more. ‘I said, no one’s threatening you, Dad – not yet anyway – but we have to sort this out, once and for all.’