The Annie Carter Series Books 1–4. Jessie Keane
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Annie said again.
Kieron looked at her as she sat down. He said: ‘I’m not like the rest of them, you know.’
‘The rest of who?’
‘The Delaneys. I’m not part of that world.’
‘Oh.’
‘So there’s no need to be walking on eggshells trying not to upset me. I won’t take offence. There’ll be no nasty comebacks. Just say if you’ve changed your mind about the sitting.’
‘I haven’t.’
‘Well, good.’
‘I’ve just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.’
‘I’ll try to help with that,’ smiled Kieron. ‘You can talk while you sit.’
‘Talk to a Delaney about Carter trouble? I don’t think so,’ said Annie.
‘I told you. I’m not into all that. I’m like a priest, I hear confessions. And the confessional is confidential.’
Annie found herself looking at him properly for the first time. Ellie was right, he was easy on the eye – and so friendly. He stood up. He was tall and gangly, with big bony hands. His jacket was tweed with leather elbow patches. There was a long, unravelling, purple scarf around his neck.
‘You’re staring,’ he said.
‘Sorry.’ Annie stood up, flushing.
‘You think you like the cut of me, do you?’
Annie had to smile too now. ‘I’ll let you know.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘When I’m ready.’
‘I was jealous of my sister, Ruthie,’ Annie said as she sat in Kieron’s flat. It was way up in the top of a house in Shepherd’s Bush, with cold north light streaming through big windows. It was piled high with canvases and stank of paint and linseed and turps. There was a bed and a little kitchenette in one corner, and a Bobby Darin LP was playing on the turntable on the floor. There was a one-bar electric fire at Annie’s feet. It was a workplace rather than a home, but it was kept well.
‘Keep the fuck still, won’t you?’ said Kieron lightly, busy sketching away. ‘Why? Is she prettier than you?’ He stood back from the canvas and looked her over. ‘That’s hard to believe, at the risk of getting you a big head.’
‘She’s not prettier than me,’ said Annie.
‘What then?’
Annie shrugged. ‘Dad left. I was a daddy’s girl. Mum loved Ruthie, not me. I reminded her of Dad.’
‘Ah, that must be the handsome side of the family.’ Kieron was back at the sketching.
‘Are all your family as stunning as your sister Orla?’
‘Redmond is, they’re twins after all. But we’re not talking about my family, remember.’
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s okay. Keep still, you.’
‘For how long, exactly?’ Annie was squirming on the stool. She couldn’t feel her lower half at all any more, she’d been on this damned stool for an hour. She was cold, despite being wrapped up in cardigan and skirt. ‘And we’re talking about the Carters, let me remind you. My sister’s one of them now.’
‘And happy to be so, I would imagine. Living the high life and enjoying it.’
‘I’ve heard different.’
‘She’s unhappy?’
‘I don’t know. Mum won’t talk to me. She thinks I’m the world’s worst whore because I set out to get my sister’s man.’
‘You can see she’d be peeved.’
‘I was jealous! How many times do I have to say it, I was wild with jealousy. Years and years of it. She had everything I wanted, just the thought of him and her together made me want to rip her eyes out. I was going mental with it, I had to do something.’
‘Well you did that – and now I guess you’re sorry?’
Annie pulled a face. ‘It’s too late for that. Mum won’t listen. I can’t get in touch with Ruthie, she’s buried down in the country somewhere so I don’t know what’s happening with her.’
‘You’re in a mess.’
‘You can say that again.’
‘Your mother threw you out, that’s the story? No, don’t move that arm.’
Annie nodded and got the arm back into position. ‘So I went to Celia’s. I had nowhere else. Lost my job as well.’
Kieron paused. ‘The Carters have influence.’
‘You’d know all about that, being a Delaney.’
‘Off limits. So that’s why you agreed to sit for me? You needed the cash?’
‘Why else?’
‘I was thinking you loved my Irish blarney.’
Annie laughed. ‘You’ve got plenty of that.’
‘Although Orla did warn me against you.’
‘What for?’
‘She thought you were trouble. Didn’t like your connections.’
‘I don’t bloody have any. They’ve all buggered off.’
‘Ah, you poor thing. Would you consider taking your clothes off next time you sit for me?’
‘Fuck off.’
‘Oh, go on.’
Annie’s eyes opened wide at his audacity. She had to laugh. ‘Are you taking the piss or what?’
‘The pay’s better.’
‘I don’t care.’ Annie paused. ‘How much better?’
‘Double.’
‘Never.’
‘It’s true, I’m telling you. So will you?’
‘No.’ But she was smiling. Kieron was easy to talk to, she liked that about him. But she had the feeling she could have been a bowl of fruit or a landscape or any damned thing, he was looking at her as an object, not as a woman. Which she felt sort of relieved about, and annoyed about at the same time. Granted, he was trying to get her clothes off, but not with any lustful intention. Which was a bit bloody insulting in a way. She was used to men slavering over her, and his approach threw her off balance.
‘I didn’t expect this,’ she said.
‘What?’ He was busy, absorbed.
‘That you’re a real artist. That you really do it.’
Kieron paused.
‘I thought you were just playing at all this,’ said Annie. ‘You’re a Delaney, for God’s sake. Delaneys don’t usually arse about painting pictures, do they? They …’ Annie hesitated.
‘Yeah, what do “they” do?’ asked Kieron.
‘They run their manor,’ said Annie. ‘People respect them.’
‘And fear them.’
‘That goes with the turf.’
Annie hesitated again. She thought of the Delaneys, and how they had bided their time, lulled the Carters into a false sense of security after Tory was knocked off, then suddenly gone for Eddie. These were dangerous people, cunning and cold.
Kieron paused. ‘Come on then, spit it out.’
‘Will