The Streets, page 4
‘Look where you’re going, wanker!’
He didn’t bother to shout back at the motorcyclist, preferring not to bring attention to himself.
Ignoring the rain soaking through his jumper, Barney hung back for a moment but quickly picked up his pace when he saw the woman scuttle down a flight of stone stairs to the basement of the empty building on the corner.
Pausing to make sure no one was watching, Barney flicked a hurried glance over his shoulder then rushed down the concrete steps to the basement in time to catch the bald-headed man handing over a small wrap to the woman.
‘I don’t think so, Pete. Tabby don’t need your shit. Now fuck off.’
Standing underneath the scaffolding, both Pete and Tabby had a look of surprise on their faces. ‘What’s it got to do with you?’ Hostility dripped from Pete as he squared up angrily to Barney.
‘It’s got everything to do with me, Pete. Now if I were you, I’d take yourself off . . . Tabby, give it him back.’ Barney held Pete’s stare. He’d known the guy for years, and he’d always been a lowlife. Most of the time he dealt his shit in Leicester Square, but lately he was coming over to this side of Soho to sell his overpriced crack and heroin. A small-time dealer who thought he was Mr Big. What Barney hated most about Pete was that he cut his gear with everything from talc to household detergent, making people sick.
‘Barney, go away for fuck’s sake! Why are you always sticking your beak in where it’s not wanted?’ Tabby shrieked between nervously chewing on her dirty fingernails.
‘Tabby, last time you got stuff from him, you ended up in hospital. That’s not going to happen again.’
‘If she wants to buy my stuff, she can.’
Holding onto the wrap of crack tightly, Tabby Young curled up her face. She was trembling and Barney wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or because she was beginning to cluck. ‘He’s right, I can do what I want. Now piss off, Barney, will ya?’
Used to Tabby’s outbursts, Barney didn’t take offence. ‘Darling, you’re my friend and I love you, and if you insist on taking that shit, you know Cora said she’d score you some. Now be a sweetheart and let’s go.’
He put out his hand but Pete blocked it, stepping forward aggressively. ‘We had a deal, me and her. She was the one who called me up. So I ain’t leaving here empty-handed.’
‘The deal’s over. Anyway, we both know she ain’t got no money. So you were going to rack it up on her tab, weren’t you? Get her to work it off by sleeping with some scummy sleazeball. Well I don’t think so; she isn’t giving you anything, not anymore.’
Looking incensed, Pete hopped on the spot. ‘You’re bang out of order, Barney. I don’t appreciate being ripped off. I think you’re forgetting who I am.’
Barney snorted. ‘Who you are? You’re no one, Pete. That’s what I think you’re forgetting.’
‘You should be careful what you say, cos it ain’t only me you’ll piss off if you carry on talking to me like that.’
‘You’re pathetic. You sound like a schoolkid. Here, have it back . . .’ Barney snatched the wrap of crack out of Tabby’s hand and threw it down on the ground at Pete’s feet, then he grabbed hold of her hand, pulling her with him.
No sooner had Barney begun to lead Tabby back up the stairs than Pete grabbed hold of him, yanking him back.
‘One of you needs to pay for my time. So, come on, Barney, what do you say? Who’s going to pay me?’
‘I think you’ve been smoking too much of that crack. Now get your fucking hands off me.’
‘I asked you a question.’
Without answering, Barney turned to go again, but he felt a sudden sharp pain in his side. His knees went weak and he staggered, resting his hand against the wall. Tabby screamed. ‘Barney! Barney!’
He glanced down at his jumper, where a dark spot of blood had begun to appear. He’d been stabbed. Wincing, he touched his side, but he stood up straight and spun round to see Pete smirking, holding a small blade.
‘Oh, big mistake, sweetie,’ was all Barney said before he slammed his fist hard into Pete’s face, knocking loose his front teeth.
Pete’s blood sprayed over the concrete wall and he sprawled on the ground. Then as quick as he could, and paying no attention to the pain in his side, Barney raised his foot. He paused for a moment, making sure he had full eye contact with Pete, then said, ‘You want an answer? Here’s your answer.’ And with that he brought his foot down directly onto Pete’s nose, grinding his heel as deep as he could into it. Even over the sound of the rain hammering on the scaffolding, Barney heard the crunch of cartilage as Pete’s nose shattered, causing it to bubble with mucus and blood.
Breathing hard and placing his hand on his side, Barney nodded to Tabby. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
Sniffing and wiping the tears from her face, Tabby was shaking uncontrollably. ‘You need to get that seen to, Barney, you need to get to a hospital. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!’
Barney doubted he was in as much pain as Pete, who was writhing on the ground and groaning in agony. He pulled up his jumper carefully and examined the wound; it was only a small nick. ‘Look, it’s fine. Stings like fuck, but I’ll live. A double whisky will sort me out, and it’s not your fault, Tabby. So no tears, OK?’
She nodded miserably.
‘Come on, don’t look so glum, it’s my birthday tomorrow and I’ve got a party to sort out. I expect to see you there.’ Ignoring the throbbing in his back, he smiled at her as they climbed back up the stone stairs and she smiled too, an almost toothless smile: the ravages of years of crack and heroin.
‘You look freezing, why don’t you come and get a coat from mine, then I want you to do something for me.’
She nodded enthusiastically. ‘Anything.’
‘Go and see if you can find out if Cookie’s all right. There’ll probably be some of Ned’s girls at Gina’s salon now, or some of his boys might be down at the arcade. But be discreet.’
Crossing the road back to the club, Tabby shrugged. ‘When ain’t I? But it’ll cost you.’
Barney laughed loudly and pulled her into him. ‘When doesn’t it? But I ain’t going to give you anything until you report back, otherwise you’ll be high as a kite and I won’t see you for a couple of days. Like I say, I want you at my party. It’s going to be a big one.’
A police car came into sight and Barney instinctively spun round. Tabby laughed, her cackle warm. ‘You going to tell me your secret?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘The way you ducked from that cop car – or any cop car, come to think of it.’
Barney stared at Tabby, her straggly brown hair covering her blue eyes. Her skin grey from the lifestyle she led, but her warmth still shone out. He’d known her for almost the whole time he’d lived in Soho, which was coming on for the past ten years. A place he loved, where no one asked too many questions, which suited him.
He’d come across her one cold day in November, as he was putting the bins out. She was outside his door, curled up in a ball, exhausted and hungry. He’d given her a bite to eat, and after that she’d kept turning up in the mornings like a cat looking for food and shelter. That was how she’d got the nickname Tabby. The truth was he didn’t recall what her real name was. Now, like Cora and Natalie, who worked for him at the club, Tabby was part of the family, however dysfunctional that family was.
‘Anyone would think you’ve got something to hide, Barney.’
He winked at her. ‘This is Soho, darling – who hasn’t?’
6
‘You’re fucking disgusting! If you carry on eating like that, you’ll end up six feet under like Aunt Ivy,’ Ned growled as he stood in the large, lavish basement kitchen of his house. He stared at his mother, who was shovelling yet another cream cake into her mouth.
‘Do me a favour. Your Aunt Ivy – God rest her soul – was fat. That’s what put her under.’ Pearl spluttered her words along with a large piece of cream cake which shot out of her mouth, landing on the expensive hand-carved oak table. She picked it up happily, popping it back into her mouth.
‘And you’re not? Have you looked in the mirror lately, Mum? Your arse is as big as a fucking hippo’s. It’s a good job the circus ain’t coming to town, otherwise they might think you’re the one that got away.’
‘Oi, I’m not fat, you cheeky bastard . . . See this’ – Pearl proceeded to grab hold of the rolls of fat that squeezed against the expensive silk shirt she’d picked up from Harrods last week – ‘ain’t you ever heard of love handles, darlin’? In all my time, I’ve never had any complaints. This is what men want, not a skinny pussy like the ones the whores you hang round with have. How is Cookie, by the way?’ She roared with laughter, breaking wind at the same time.
‘For fuck’s sake, you’re like a pig.’
‘Oh come on, how can you object to your mother having a little bit of a nibble after that bleeding walk you made me go on? In case you’ve forgotten, I’ll be turning the old five dozen next year, so I’ve got to keep me strength up. I ain’t Bear Grylls, you know.’
‘Do me a favour! It was almost in spitting distance.’
‘Got to warm meself up though, ain’t I?’
Ned scowled at her. ‘You don’t warm yourself up on three frigging cream cakes. Last time I heard, Greggs’ buns weren’t the official treatment for hypothermia.’
Taking another bite, then sucking the cream off her short stubby fingers, Pearl shook her head. ‘What the fuck’s got into you anyway? Oh, don’t tell me.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Whenever your boat race looks like that, it can only be one thing: Cookie. What’s she done now?’
Ned felt himself bristle. He glared at his mother. No matter how expensive her clothes were – and they certainly were – somehow she made them look cheap. Barely five foot one and borderline obese, she always reminded him of one of those puffer fish: round and bloated. ‘She ain’t done nothing, so give it a rest before you do me head in. I don’t need you chewing me ear off, I’ve had a shit day already.’
‘Problem with you is you treat her like a fucking princess.’
Ned slammed his fist down on the table, causing the Siamese cat his mother had insisted on buying to scurry out of the room. ‘You mean I treat you like a princess, while you treat me like a cunt.’
Looking disappointedly at the empty cream cake box, Pearl shrugged. ‘You don’t fool me, son.’
He stepped forward, leaning down into his mother’s face. ‘I’ve told you, it’s got nothing to do with her. Now do like I asked you and take Zee back to Hanson Street with you. Stupid little bitch fucked me over, and I don’t like that.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Zee. She thought it was OK to betray me, even though I was the one who found her sleeping rough back when she was a scruffy little homeless kid and put a roof over her head, saw to it she ain’t got nothing to worry about. And what do I get in return? Her trying to do a moonlight flit with that skinny runt of a boyfriend.’
Pearl sniffed loudly. ‘Don’t give me that, son. You don’t give a fuck about Zee. Easy come, easy go. She’s just another little whore to you.’ Rocking forward on her chair, she pointed at Ned, her large breasts resting on the table. ‘Come on, admit it: you’ve had another row with Cookie. Go on, I’m right, aren’t I?’ she smirked.
‘Wind your neck in.’
Unperturbed, Pearl continued: ‘I don’t know how many times I’ve told you this, but only a fool falls in love with a whore then brings her under his roof.’ She shook her head. ‘All this grief for a good-looking face and a corker of a body. You’re better off having a wank.’
‘You’ve always been jealous of her.’
Pearl roared with laughter, which infuriated Ned even further. ‘Jealous of that trollop! How could anyone be jealous of someone that’s named after a packet of digestives?’
‘For fuck’s sake, shut it!’
‘I’m only trying to look out for you. That’s what mothers do.’
Grabbing the box of cigarettes which was hanging out of Pearl’s Fendi bag, Ned pulled one out and lit it. Something he didn’t normally do in the house. He liked the place to be clean, pristine, but his mother, as she so often did, was getting right under his skin. And as he wasn’t about to, nor would he ever, lay a hand on her – not that he wasn’t constantly tempted – nicotine was the next best thing. ‘Well don’t. Keep your fat beak out of my business.’
Ignoring him, Pearl took a sip of her coffee, which left a chocolate froth moustache on her lips. ‘I don’t know how many times I’ve said it, but the way you run around after her, it’s embarrassing. You need to have a long, hard look in the mirror, Son, think about what you’re doing.’
Clenching his jaw, Ned ran his fingers through his thick head of black hair. He glanced down at his phone, which was beginning to buzz on the table. Shit. It was Simon Draper again. The last person he wanted to speak to. Ignoring it, he turned back to his mother. ‘Oh don’t worry, I know exactly what I’m doing.’ He went to the cupboard and pulled out a small black leather cosh with tiny metal studs on it. ‘Anyway, Cookie’s waiting for me. I told her I needed a word.’
Pearl’s eyes made their way to the cosh. ‘I thought you said she ain’t done anything.’
‘I lied.’
In the beautifully decorated master bedroom, Pearl, having slipped quickly upstairs before Ned – who’d taken a call from one of his clients – stared at Cookie in disgust. ‘Where the fuck do you get off, trying to help Zee do a runner?
‘I wondered how long it would take you to get involved. Go away, Pearl.’
Pearl chuckled, coming further into the room. ‘You think you’re so special, don’t you?’ she snarled nastily. ‘Think your shit smells better than ours, don’t you?’
‘I’ve got nothing to say to you.’
‘No, but my son’s going to have something to say to you in a minute, ain’t he?’ She walked up to Cookie. ‘And do you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to be on the other side of that wall and listen to every moment of it.’
Cookie shook her head, not reacting. She stared down at Pearl. ‘However you get your kicks, darlin’.’
Pearl reddened. ‘You think you’re so smart! Well one day you’ll be laughing on the other side of your face.’
‘I’ve said it the polite way, and now I’m saying fuck off, Pearl.’
‘Get out, Mum.’ Ned walked into the bedroom, making both women jump.
Glancing at Ned, then at the cosh in his hand, Pearl’s face lit up and a slow smile appeared as she headed out of the door. ‘That’s my boy.’ And as she walked away, the desire to get rid of Cookie was stronger than ever. She just needed to work out how.
With Pearl out of the way, Ned stood staring at Cookie, tapping the cosh against his leg. ‘Take your robe off.’
Without speaking, Cookie untied her blue silk dressing gown, taking it off and dropping it to the floor. She stood naked to attention by the dresser. She knew the routine. The punishment. All she needed to do was keep reminding herself why she was still here. The reasons outweighed any sort of humiliation Ned could put her through, and as long as she remembered that, she would shut up and put up with his punishments . . . Besides, wasn’t this what she deserved after what had happened? Wasn’t this the least she deserved?
So for now she’d accept the life she had to lead. Only once she’d done what she set out to do would there come a day when her conscience would let her walk out of here and not look back. In the meantime she reminded herself of Ned’s oft-repeated warning:
The only way you’re leaving me, Cook, is if you kill me . . . or I kill you.
And she supposed she knew in her gut that when it came to that day, when she was ready to go, Ned would be right. But the question was, would it be the former or the latter option?
‘Right then, shall we begin?’ And with that, Ned pushed closed the bedroom door.
7
It was now dark and with the weather turning worse, around the corner in Livonia Street, Lorni Duncan stood huddled under the scaffolding with her son. They were cold and soaking wet, and Lorni could feel Jace shaking. He wore only a thin beige shirt and trousers and a blue summer rain jacket which she’d picked up from the charity store, but it was no protection from the cold.
They’d been waiting for over two hours for the landlord, who hadn’t shown and his phone was turned off. It didn’t even have voicemail so she could leave a message on it. She’d been tempted to leave and go back to the cafe, but if she missed him, then what would they do?
A small whimper broke Lorni’s thoughts and she looked down at the top of her son’s head and realized Jace was crying. He was clearly trying not to show it. She opened her mouth to say something, to comfort him, but snapped it closed. What could she say to a kid who was cold and hungry? And she was certain that the smell of nearby restaurants wafting through the air wasn’t helping.
The only thing she could offer him were a couple of sample coffee biscuits she’d picked up from Heathrow airport last night and a packet of salted crisps she’d had in her bag for at least a fortnight. The food bank wasn’t an option, not for them anyway. She couldn’t risk – however slim the chance – of anyone spotting them.
The usual guilt began to gnaw away at Lorni, then the doubts she tried so hard to push out of her mind started to surface. Always the doubts. She didn’t know any more if she was doing the right thing. At one time it’d been so clear, she’d known – or rather she thought she’d known – exactly what she had to do. She’d felt in control. But not anymore. Even if she wanted to go back, she couldn’t. It was too late.
‘Excuse me, love.’
Lorni jumped at the sound of a voice close behind her. She hadn’t realized anyone was there. Turning around, she came face to face with a small, scruffy woman who looked almost as cold and wet as she did.
