The Annie Carter Series Books 1–4. Jessie Keane
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hung over and battle-weary. But then they had to set to and get it all cleaned up ready for the evening’s trade.
Now the dust had settled and Annie was counting out the proceeds on the kitchen table. She was coming to the conclusion that Celia had been a fool. She’d been sitting on a fucking gold-mine and hadn’t exploited the fact. Annie realized that she needed three or four more girls for the parties, and she needed a skilled barman too, how the hell was she to know what went into a Gin Sling? But these were minor problems, she thought as she counted out the loot. In all her time at Celia’s place, Annie had never seen money flooding in like this.
There was a knock at the back door. Annie jumped. She could see a shadowy figure out there through the frosted glass. A hat, the bulk of a man. Chris had heard it too. He came hurrying purposefully through from the hall.
‘It’s okay, Chris, it’s only Billy,’ Annie realized, scooping up fivers and tenners and quickly shoving them in the dresser drawer.
Chris let Billy in. Billy preferred the company of women, and he was uneasy around macho men like Chris. He looked nervously at the man-mountain.
‘Chris, this is Billy, a friend of ours – Billy, meet Chris, our new doorman,’ said Annie.
‘Hello Billy,’ said Chris. He looked annoyed. Annie knew that he had spent a lot of time over sharpening up security; it shouldn’t have been possible to even reach the back door. And he’d told Annie that she needed something solid there, not a door with glazing, but she liked the light it let into the kitchen. ‘How did you get round the back there?’
Billy looked awkward. ‘I climbed over the fence,’ he said.
Annie could see Chris making a mental note that involved higher fences and barbed wire. She suspected her nice frosted-glass door was soon to be bound for the tip. Billy had always used the back door, and in his mind that was the only door to use. Annie understood that, but Chris didn’t.
‘Use the front door in future, okay?’
Billy nodded and blushed.
‘Come and sit down and have a cup of tea with me,’ said Annie, putting the kettle on while Chris went back to his business. ‘How are you, Billy?’
‘I’m very well. Are you well, Miss Bailey?’
Although Billy thought of her as ‘his beautiful Annie’, he would never dream of addressing her by her first name. His mum had brought him up to respect ladies and to treat them properly. He sat down at the kitchen table, his briefcase on his lap. He removed his deerstalker. You didn’t keep your hat on when there was a lady present.
‘I’m fine. Keeping busy, you know. Biscuit?’
‘Thank you.’ Billy paused. He wasn’t sure whether he should say it, maybe Max wouldn’t like everyone knowing his business. But Annie wasn’t everyone, Annie was a Bailey, and family was important. His mum had always hammered that home to him. ‘I came to tell you that Mrs Carter is back living with Mrs Bailey.’
Annie dropped the biscuit tin. She turned and stared at Billy. ‘Ruthie’s moved back in with Mum?’ she said.
‘I thought you would want to know.’ Billy looked at her anxiously. ‘I didn’t want to upset you.’
Annie snatched up the tin. ‘You haven’t upset me, Billy,’ she said. Flaming hell, did that mean that Ruthie and Max were over? Was this a permanent split?
Billy was afraid that he had upset Annie. Suddenly she looked distracted. He hoped not. He loved coming here and seeing her, they were so kind to him here. It had always been a nice warm place, a bit of a haven for him, even when Madam Celia had been here. When she had gone, Billy feared he would no longer be welcome, but his beautiful Annie seemed to have taken over where Celia left off.
Actually he wasn’t too clear about what they did here. He knew they paid protection to the Delaneys, just as places like this on Max’s patch paid protection to the Carters. That was just the way things were. But as to what they got up to, upstairs in their bedrooms, Billy wasn’t too sure about that. He had a feeling that they did dirty things. The same sort of things Mum had warned him about, the things that would make him go blind, she said – things that he sometimes did himself, much to his shame, but only ever alone in the privacy of his room.
And now here she was, chatting to him like she was interested in what he had to say! He was in heaven. When she’d upset Max – he didn’t know how but she had – he’d been afraid she would move right away, that he would lose her for ever. But here she was, talking to him. And then the phone rang, and Chris poked his head round the kitchen door.
‘It’s Kieron, Miss Bailey,’ said Chris.
‘Oh no,’ said Annie. ‘I’m late. I know I’m late. I’m coming, tell him.’
‘She’s coming,’ said Chris into the phone.
Annie ran out into the hall. ‘Kieron, I’ll be about half an hour,’ she said.
A pause. Billy listened.
‘Look, Kieron, you know I was reluctant to do this in the first place.’
Billy’s attention sharpened. Was this ‘Kieron’ making Annie do something she didn’t want to? His mind churned. Not something like they did in the bedrooms upstairs?
‘I said from the start, didn’t I, that I didn’t want to be lying there in my birthday suit for all to see? I don’t like it.’
Billy felt himself blush uncomfortably at what she was saying. What was this man doing to her, that she had to be naked? He thought he knew. His mum had told him about the birds and the bees and how only dirty people did things like that. His jaw clenched in anger. This wasn’t right, this man forcing Annie to do things against her will.
‘Okay, Kieron, half an hour,’ Annie said, and walked back into the kitchen only to find that Billy was gone. He’d only drunk half his tea. The back door was standing open and the rain was coming in. She closed it, paused for a moment to think again about what Billy had told her, then quickly got back to counting out yesterday’s takings. She had to scoot. It might only be Kieron, but you didn’t keep a Delaney waiting.
At four o’clock on a Sunday morning an arsonist slipped a rag soaked with lighter fuel through the letterbox of the Galway Club. Then the arsonist did the same at the Liberty. The clubs were both owned by the Delaneys. By five o’clock the fire brigade were in attendance, hosing both places down. By six, dawn was breaking and the twin jewels in the crown of the Delaney empire were nothing more than smouldering wrecks, black and gutted, open to the early morning rain. By seven, Orla and Redmond and Pat Delaney were outside the Galway looking at the wreckage. At seven-thirty, Kieron showed up, bleary-eyed and incredulous as he saw what had happened.
‘Fucking Carters,’ Pat roared, and hit the blackened wall.
The police were there, standing some distance away. They knew the score. This was a gangland reprisal. They had already taken details from Redmond, but every one of the Delaneys knew that the Bill would take the paperwork back down the station and promptly lose it. They had enough work on their hands policing law-abiding citizens, they wouldn’t trouble themselves over mob fights.
‘You think it was them?’ Kieron asked, open-mouthed with shock.
‘Give the boy a coconut,’ sneered Pat.
‘Because of what happened to Eddie Carter?’
Pat said nothing but kicked the wall.
Kieron looked at Redmond and Orla, both standing there like statues, saying nothing. He hadn’t ever allowed himself to think about what had happened to Eddie Carter. But at the back of his mind was a suspicion that his family had been involved. They might not have done the deed,