Family Drama 4 E-Book Bundle (102 page)

‘I tell you what, it's been a nice day even if we spent hours getting there and back, and you're right about the doc and his wife – they're OK – and that Yardley, the chauffeur, me and him are cut from the same cloth, I reckon. He's a bit of a card, isn't he?'

‘Hardly a bit of a card and you're not cut from the same cloth. Yardley is bad.'

‘I bet he's a bit of a duck-and-dive merchant in his spare time. Perfect set-up there, car to get him around, a garage to store stuff and the respectability of working for the doc. He's got it made.'

Ruby shook her head and pulled a face. ‘Well, I wouldn't know that, would I? Uncle George helped him out by giving him a job because of his bad lungs, and they think of him as family and they trust him.' She paused for a second. ‘More fool them. He's bad.'

‘Why do you say that? Seemed OK to me.'

‘I don't want to talk about Yardley.'

‘Not too keen on him, then?'

‘I just said, I don't want to talk about bloody Derek bloody Yardley, OK?'

‘OK.' Johnnie looked at her sideways but she just focused on the steamed-up window. There were some things she didn't want to talk about and she wasn't going to let Johnnie push her into it.

‘Interesting view, that. Well, I think it might be, if we could see it.'

She turned towards him and, despite herself, she laughed. ‘You're a nitwit, you know that, don't you?'

‘Maybe, but my sis says I'm a nice nitwit.'

This time when he gripped her shoulder Ruby let him pull her close. Leaning her head on his shoulder she suddenly felt really grown up. Especially when he softly kissed the top of her head and touched her neck with his fingertips; she felt goose bumps rising on her skin and she reddened, aware that he could probably feel them as well.

Her heart was thumping all the way down the road, and by the time she opened the front door her fear was so great she felt as if she were about to have a heart attack. Once she was back in the High Street the reality of everything she'd done and the possible implications hit her. She was suddenly petrified that her mother might have found out that not only had she been to visit the Wheatons, but she'd gone with Johnnie Riordan, Ray's sworn enemy, and, in the heat of the moment, she'd done far worse.

It had seemed such a good idea at the time, but as she walked in through the door at nearly midnight she could feel her heart palpitating in her throat as she imagined Ray waiting behind the door for her, waiting to backhand her.

‘Mum? Are you there? Mum, I'm sorry I'm so late but the buses from the West End were up the Swannee. We had to walk for miles and we got lost. It was ever so frightening.' She paused fearfully and listened. ‘Mum? Are you awake?'

As she stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking around and praying nervously that there was nothing in her expression to give away her guilt, so her mother leaned over the banister at the top.

‘Ruby? Oh, thank God you're here. Come upstairs quickly. I don't know what to do … Your brothers need help, you have to help. This is beyond me. Oh my Lord, this is awful …'

It was already dark in the narrow, unmade lane that led from the main road to the line of ramshackle engineering-style workshops behind a disused section of bombed railway track. The only lights were the dim beam escaping from under the doors of one of the units, and the dying embers of a rusty brazier outside the large central unit that was home to a carpentry shop. Blacksmiths Lane itself was a dead end with the units forming a banjo at the far end, but there was another hidden route for anyone prepared to clamber over the remains of a wooden fence and slip through a gap in the overgrown bushes at the back, which shielded the eyesore of assorted workshops from the allotments behind.

It was amid the rubble behind these bushes that Eddie Stone was waiting impatiently for the right moment. He'd done a walk-by the day before, feigning interest in having an armchair repaired, so he knew exactly where he had to be, when he had to be there and how to get in and out without being seen. He also knew what he was going to do.

There was no disputing he desperately needed the money but he couldn't help looking forward to a bit of a dust-up at the same time. It had been a while since he'd had either.

When the last of the other units was locked up, and the occupants were out of sight and sound down the lane, Eddie ground his cigarette into the dirt under the heel of his soft-soled shoe, flexed his shoulders and arms, and prepared to slip through the brambles to surprise Ray and Bobbie Blakeley and earn his desperately needed payday from Johnnie Riordan.

On the way past he stopped and rubbed his hands together over the still-warm brazier before taking the last few steps to the grandly named Collins and Son, Garage and Workshop. His research told him that despite the name neither David Collins, senior nor David Collins, junior actually worked there. They did, however, own every single unit in the lane. They also owned the land and all the businesses in all the units.

David Collins, junior visited all the units most days just to check on that small part of the family property and business empire. Although his visits were dreaded by his employees, at least his routine was always the same: smartly turned out, he'd drive up at the same time, swagger in and out of every unit, looking down his nose at the workers as he did so. On Fridays he would visit and hand out the pay packets with benevolence, as if he were handing out charitable donations. Nobody liked him – he was arrogant and dictatorial – but nobody ever said a word because at least they all had jobs and the lazy Collins son was preferable to his cantankerous and unpredictable father, who hired and fired as the mood took him.

The unit with the lights still on was the one Eddie was going to pay a visit to. It had a corrugated-iron roof and double wooden doors with rusting metal bolts and hinges on the outside that had seen better days, and three motorbikes parked up outside. One belonged to the brothers and the other two were there to be patched up as best they could be.

That was the job that Ray and Bobbie Blakeley were paid to do and they were good at it. They patched up motorcars and motorbikes that were really fit only for the scrapheap. It was a job that needed brawn more than brains, and no qualifications. They just worked long hours, learning how to do it as they went along.

The pay, typical of the Collins', was as minimal as they could get away with, but Ray and Bobbie topped up their income by using the long-forgotten lockers at the back for their own sideline business. The small working space was so crammed full of tools and equipment that the battered and greasy lockers that lined the back wall weren't visible to anyone who didn't already know they were there.

‘Hello, boys,' Eddie said as he slipped in through the unbolted doors into the workshop and quickly pulled them to behind him.

Ray was sitting at a small wooden desk near the doors and Bobbie was perched on the corner as Eddie appeared. Initially they both looked bemused; they'd stayed late because they were expecting a customer they didn't want anyone to know about, so it took a moment for either of them to react.

‘Yeah?' Ray asked as he took in the man. Dressed all in black, the six-foot-four ex-boxer with no neck and shoulders like a silver-back gorilla was a scary sight, but Ray wasn't instantly concerned. He had an arrogance about him that made him none too observant and he stayed in his seat staring confrontationally at Eddie. Bobbie, however, instinctively stood up and started to back away.

‘I've been asked to pay you a visit to clear up a little misunderstanding that Mr Riordan is concerned about.'

‘Reckon you're in the wrong place, mister, so unless you've got some genuine business here, get out.' Ray nodded his head towards the doors, a gesture of dismissal.

Eddie Stone laughed; he loved a challenge. He flexed his shoulders in a circular movement, then with one long reach of his arm he grabbed Ray round the neck, pulled him from the chair and punched him full force straight in the midriff before letting go and watching him drop to his knees. As Ray groaned so Bobbie jumped forward.

‘What are you doing? Leave him alone. You're in the wrong place.'

Eddie Stone's eyes moved to the younger lad. ‘You said what?'

As Bobbie sidled towards his brother so Eddie hit him with a professional upper cut to the side of his jaw. He stumbled back with blood dribbling from his mouth and fell onto the floor opposite his brother.

‘What do you want?' Ray groaned from his kneeling position. ‘There's nothing here worth nicking. The boss has already gone with the cash box. It's just us – we only work here – there's nothing … nothing.'

Eddie grinned as he lifted a boot-clad foot and kicked Ray in the chest. It wasn't an overly vicious kick but it was hard enough to crack a rib and send Ray flying across the workshop. Then he turned to Bobbie and gave him a hefty kick in the kidney area.

‘But that's not all you do here, is it? I know you're up to no good, and naughty boys that get up to no good get punished.'

Staring at each of them in turn, Eddie reached out and picked up a large spanner. He grinned as he gripped it tightly and batted it against the palm of his other hand.

‘Now, you and I are going to have a little chat. Well, more than a chat really …'

Eddie started to swing the spanner, knocking things off the various surfaces . His long arms and massive hands gave him both control and strength of the weapon, and tools and engine parts went flying, including a hammer that bounced fiercely off Bobbie's shoulder.

‘Don't! Please don't. Leave us alone, we haven't done anything …' Bobbie was one step from tears and he put his hands over his head in terror as Ray clambered to his feet and tried to shoulder-tackle Eddie.

‘Don't, Ray, you stupid git!' Bobbie shouted. ‘He'll kill us …'

‘Clever boy! At least one of you's got some brains,' Eddie laughed as he whacked Ray right across his knuckles with the spanner. ‘Now give me what you know you shouldn't have and I'll be gone. But if not, then the bikes outside look like they need seeing to …'

He didn't need to finish the threat. This time there was no arguing. Bobbie ignored his brother and told Eddie exactly where to look. Eddie scooped up the boxes, which contained twenty-four bottles of black-market whisky and gin, and headed towards the door.

‘The lesson of the day for you boys is that Mr Riordan's unhappy. He wants you to stay off his turf. You want to wheel and deal, you don't do it round here. Got it?' He looked from one to the other. ‘I said, have you got it?'

Ray and Bobbie lifted their heads in unison and nodded.

Eddie winked at the prostrate brothers and left as quickly as he had arrived. The whole episode had lasted only a few minutes but in that short time Ray and Bobbie had both been badly hurt. However, that was the least of their problems.

The cases of whisky that Eddie had taken hadn't been paid for, and for that they knew they'd be in even worse trouble.

Ruby took the stairs three at a time and nearly ran into her mother, who was standing on the landing wringing her hands.

‘Something's happened to my boys. They're hurt and I don't know what to do. They don't want to go to hospital but they must, they have to, they're hurt …'

‘All of them? What happened?' Ruby asked.

‘No, it's Ray and Bobbie. Just go and see if you can do something to help them, please!'

‘Why me?' Ruby was puzzled at her mother's insistence.

‘You said you wanted to be a bloody nurse – you lived with a doctor – you know what to do …'

Ruby went into Ray's bedroom, the tiny boxroom that used to be hers, and saw him lying fully clothed on top of the bed. He was lying on his back with his knees up and bloody hands clasping his midriff. She could see his hands were injured and his face was deathly pale. As she moved forward to take a closer look her mother stood stock-still in the doorway with her hand clamped over her mouth.

‘Get out, Ruby,' Ray shouted as he opened his eyes and saw her leaning over him. ‘Get out of my fucking room and mind your own business, you stuck-up little bitch. Get out …'

Ruby shrugged. ‘OK. I was only going to help.'

With her mother almost glued to her back, she went into the other bedroom to see Bobbie, who was sitting on the edge of his bed close to tears, while Arthur was tucked down tight in his bed curled up in the foetal position facing the wall with his hands over his ears, trying to pretend nothing was happening.

‘Bloody hell, what have you two been up to?' Ruby asked. ‘You need a doctor—'

‘No,' Bobbie interrupted sharply. ‘Don't tell anyone. It's nothing, you mustn't tell anyone. Please, Ruby, don't tell.'

‘Is Arthur OK?' Ruby asked over her shoulder.

‘He's just scared,' Sarah said. ‘He doesn't know anything. He was here with me and your nan but he saw them come in all covered in blood.'

Ruby turned to her mother, who was standing behind her gulping in air and making noises as if she were hyperventilating.

‘So what happened? Did they crash the motorbike?'

‘I don't think so. Ray said someone jumped them on the way home, but I don't see why they don't want anyone to know. Will you try and talk to Ray again? Bobbie'll just do whatever he says. They've been beaten so bad – why would anyone want to hurt my boys?'

In a split second Ruby had a lightbulb moment and everything fell into place. She was horrified at the implications of her thoughts, but still wanted to laugh.

Johnnie Riordan. He had to be behind this.

‘I'll patch them up. You're right, I used to help Uncle George in the surgery so I know what I'm doing, but you'll have to tell them to let me.' Ruby looked at her mother, who was leaning on the wall struggling to light a cigarette. ‘Ray'll hate having me look after him but if he doesn't he might get blood poisoning, and there's nothing I can do if he's hurt inside. If either of them gets worse then you have to get proper help, whatever they say.'