Annie saw Steve and Gary up in the office next. They sat there and looked at her expectantly, coolly.
‘Gary,’ said Annie, looked at the lanky, hardfaced blond. ‘You once said to me that you and Steve could take over the manor.’
‘Think you’ll find I actually
threatened
you with it,’ he said.
‘That’s right, you did. Didn’t want to take orders off the Yanks, ain’t that right?’
‘What’s this all about?’ asked Steve, sitting there
like a block of stone, his dark eyes flat as they stared at her.
‘It’s about you and Gary,’ said Annie. ‘Running the Carter manor. Running Bow.’
‘And Limehouse and Battersea,’ said Gary.
‘Yeah, how’s that going?’
‘Going good.’
‘It’s no job for a woman, this game,’ said Steve. ‘Too dirty.’
Annie kept quiet about that. Knew she could do it, had
proved
she could do it, and didn’t need to prove it any more.
‘We got Derek,’ said Gary.
Annie looked at him. ‘And?’
‘He’s sorted.’
Annie nodded. She didn’t want to know what they’d done with Deaf Derek; it was enough to know that the problem had been attended to.
‘What about Charlie Foster?’ she asked with a faint shiver of revulsion. To think the horrible little creep had damn near
raped
her…
Gary looked at her with his cold blue eyes. Vicious, that was Gary, and his eyes told the whole story. He glanced down at his watch, back at her face. ‘No sweat. Being attended to…oh, just about…
now.
’
Across town in Bow there was another breaker’s yard, owned by a friend of a friend of the Carters.
As the roaring semi-hush of the city night settled around it, things came to life in there. Suddenly there was activity. Machines working, men moving.
Charlie Foster was sitting in the driver’s seat of his elderly Ford. His hands were taped to the wheel. His body was tied in to the seat.
No way out.
If he tried, if he really stretched, he could reach the glove compartment with his foot, but not the passengerseat window, and that was what he wanted to do, kick out the glass.
And then what?
And then…nothing. He slumped over the wheel, sweat running in rivulets down his face. He gave a roar of rage and terror and pulled wildly against the tape on the steering wheel once again. Slumped again.
No good.
No fucking good at all.
He heard the machinery start to roar, and then the grab hit the top of the car like a ton weight.
‘Bastards!’ he yelled, spittle flying, and the grab’s talons broke the window beside his head, and the passenger side window caved in too, and the whole car lurched.
Then he was in the air.
He turned his head and he could see them down in the yard, Carter boys. Watching. Waiting.
Bastards.
On Sunday, Annie had Tony drive her in the despised borrowed Rover over to the church.
‘Picked out a beauty,’ Tony told her excitedly about the new Jag he had ordered. ‘Black. Tan leather trim, walnut dashboard, she’s terrific.’
It tickled Annie to think of Dolly being driven around town by Tony. They’d either rip each other’s heads off or get on like wildfire, she wasn’t sure which.
Tony pulled into the churchyard and parked up. Annie got out, clutching a large assorted bouquet of fresh pink flowers and fern. It was windy today, but bright. Soon summer would give way to autumn. Tony followed, six paces back, as she walked across the rough-mown grass to Aretha’s grave.
Someone was there already.
A large figure, crouched beside it.
There was a patchwork of yellowish turf laid out on the grave. Soon the grass would bed in, start to grow. Soon there would be a fine big headstone. Annie would see to that if Chris was okay with it, and if Louella wasn’t too proud to allow it. For now, Aretha’s grave was unmarked.
‘Chris?’ she said gently, touching his shoulder.
The big man looked up. Tears were rolling down his face. He wiped at them, looked at her. He stood up. Looked past her to Tony and nodded. Tony nodded in return.
‘Wanted to come and see her,’ he said.
‘We’ll go,’ said Annie, placing her flowers beside his own offering on the grave. ‘We’ll come back later.’
‘No, I…’ Chris swallowed and ran a hand over his huge bald head. ‘I wanted to thank you, for all you did. She can rest easy now.’
‘She was one of the best friends I ever had,’ said Annie. ‘I’ll never forget her.’
Suddenly Chris broke down. ‘
Why
did this have to happen to her?’ he sobbed.
‘I don’t know, sweetheart, I really don’t,’ said Annie, feeling tears starting in her own eyes.
‘I’d like to kill that freak with my own bare hands,’ he muttered.
Annie nodded. Bobby Jo was banged up now; he was going to have a hard road to walk. No Krug or willing hostesses where
he
was going, that was
for sure. That couldn’t give Chris much comfort, but it must give him some.
‘I’ll come back later,’ said Annie, and this time he let her walk away.
When she glanced back he was on his knees again, hunched over his wife’s grave.
The hot August sun was twinkling through the trees, throwing shadows and dancing shapes.
Annie blinked. There was Aretha, in hot pants, feather boa and Afghan coat, leaning over Chris.
Aretha looked up and her eyes met Annie’s.
It’s okay, girlfriend. I’m just fine.
Annie blinked again. Aretha was gone.
Shit, now I’m seeing things
, thought Annie. But she felt oddly comforted.
‘Come on, Tone, let’s go,’ she said, and they started back to the car.
Ellie was walking toward them, clutching a bouquet of yellow roses and wearing a neat emerald-green skirt suit.
She looked good. There was a new spring in her step, a new aura about her. Things had changed. She wasn’t a brass any more, catering to the chubby chasers. She wasn’t Dolly’s cleaner. She wasn’t Kath’s cleaner, either—and that had always been a bit of a lost cause, anyway; Annie loved Kath, she was family, but even she was prepared to admit that Kath would probably always be a bit of a sloppy mare. Ellie was going to be madam of the
Limehouse parlour now, and she wouldn’t have to kowtow to the Delaneys any more. Already, it was starting to give her confidence.
‘Hi, Ellie.’
Ellie smiled faintly. ‘Thought I’d come and put these on the grave.’ Ellie looked ahead, saw Chris crouching down. ‘Oh.’ Her face clouded. ‘I’d better come back another time.’
Annie glanced over at Chris, then back at Ellie.
‘No, don’t,’ she said. ‘Go and see him. I think he could do with some company.’
Ellie shook her head, uncertain. ‘I wouldn’t know what to say.’
‘Say what you feel,’ said Annie.
Ellie looked at Chris. She straightened her shoulders, clutched more tightly at the bouquet. ‘Okay,’ she said, and started walking towards him.
Annie stood there and watched her go. Then she turned away, got into the car with Tony.
She glanced back at Aretha’s graveside. Ellie was there, touching a tentative hand to Chris’s shoulder. He looked up at her. Ellie was talking to him.
Maybe
, thought Annie.
Just maybe…
Tony started the engine and swung the Rover out through the church gates. Aretha’s Aunt Louella was just coming through them.
‘Stop the car, Tone,’ said Annie, and she got out and stood in front of the woman, blocking her path.
‘Hi, Louella,’ she said. ‘Um…Chris is at the graveside. I don’t know if you want to talk to him…?’
‘What, an’ say sorry?’ Louella sighed. ‘I thought he done it. I
believed
he done it.’
‘Well, now you know he didn’t. The police have got the one who did. And Chris is out. All charges dropped.’
‘
You
believed in him,’ said Louella.
‘I knew him better than you.’
‘That’s a fact.’ Louella said, standing there looking at the ground. Then she bit her lip and looked up at Annie’s face. ‘You know, I wasted a lot of time being angry with my baby girl, but now I wish…I wish I’d just accepted her,
whatever
she was, whatever she did, and been happy for her so long as she was happy.’
‘It’s not too late to accept Chris.
He
made her happy.’
Louella looked at Annie’s face. ‘No, it’s not. You’re right. Maybe I will. Some day.’
But not yet
, thought Annie. The pain of grief was still too raw for Louella to reach out and say sorry.
‘I’m going away soon,’ said Annie.
‘Oh yeah? Well…you have a safe journey.’
Louella gazed at her keenly, almost in puzzlement. Annie knew she’d blotted her copybook more or less for good with Louella. She didn’t expect a fond
farewell or any of that crap. But there was a tiny hint of a smile playing around the woman’s lips.
‘You know,’ said Louella at last, ‘that policeman told me how you helped to straighten this whole thing out. He said how you put yourself at risk to make sure the evil people who hurt my girl—and those others—were made to face up to their sins. So maybe you’re not
all
bad, after all.’
Which wasn’t too shabby, coming from Louella.
Not all bad, after all
, thought Annie. Not exactly praise, but it would do.
Annie got back in the car. Louella stomped on up the gravel drive to the church door, bypassing the grave, Chris and Ellie for now. Later, she might come to it. Annie really hoped she did.
Time heals all wounds
, she thought. Tony restarted the engine and pulled away. She didn’t look back again.
Constantine Barolli’s private Gulfstream 111 jet was sitting on the tarmac at Heathrow Airport, the engines running, ready for takeoff.
Annie Carter fiddled with her seatbelt, leaned over and checked that Layla’s was secure. Constantine’s minder was up the front of the cabin, out of earshot but close enough. Annie smiled across at Constantine.
‘You a nervous flyer?’ he asked, putting aside the newspaper and looking at her. Blue, blue eyes. He had to be the sexiest, most gorgeous man on the planet.
‘No,’ she said. ‘But it’s a big change for me, all this.’
‘You’ll love New York.’
‘I love
you.
’
‘That’s a start.’ He leaned over and lightly kissed her lips.
‘Urgh,’ said Layla.
‘Can’t beat kids for puncturing that romantic moment,’ he said with a grin.
‘Are we doing the right thing?’ Annie asked, and her eyes were serious now as they looked into his.
Constantine nodded slowly, his eyes holding hers. ‘The only possible thing,’ he assured her. ‘I tried doing without you, remember? It drove me nuts.’
The plane started to move, taxiing along the runway.
Constantine sat back, perfectly relaxed. He closed his eyes.
‘And it’s too late for second thoughts
now
, Mrs Carter,’ he pointed out. ‘We’re going.’
‘Shit,’ muttered Annie.
‘Shit, shit, shit,’ sang Layla.
‘Don’t
say
that.’
The throb of the engines was deafening now, growing in pitch to a roar. Suddenly the plane shot forward, zipping along the runway.
‘Wheee!’ shouted Layla.
Annie held her hand. Constantine grabbed Annie’s. All at once they were up in the air, Annie’s stomach dropping like a stone as they soared up into the blue sky, London falling away beneath them.
‘New York, here we come,’ said Constantine, opening his eyes and looking out of the window as the city shrank in size.
Annie looked at him. Mobster. Mafia. Dangerous. Alluring.
Oh Jesus, I’m really out of my depth here
, she thought. It was frightening. But exciting, too. And so what if his family hated her? Annie Carter had never yet backed away from a challenge.
‘There’s something here you might want to see,’ said Constantine, passing her the paper. ‘Page four, bottom right.’
Annie took the paper. She opened it, found the right place, and sat there staring in disbelief. The headline shouted: THREE PEOPLE MISSING AFTER PLANE CRASH. She caught her breath. For a moment the words danced meaninglessly in front of her eyes. Then she gathered herself and read the story.
Three people are missing believed dead, among them London entrepreneur Redmond Delaney and his sister, Orla, after airtraffic controllers at Cardiff Airport lost contact with a light aircraft shortly after an unauthorized takeoff. It was believed the Cessna may have been heading for Dublin, but never arrived. Accident investigators believe it crashed into the Irish Sea. Despite extensive searches, no survivors or wreckage has been found.
Feeling limp with shock, Annie looked at Constantine. ‘Three people. Redmond, Orla and the pilot.
Did
it crash into the Irish Sea? I mean, did you…?’
Constantine held her gaze steadily. ‘You really want the details?’ He glanced at Layla. ‘I told you. Anyone who goes against you goes against me. It’s done now. It’s finished.’
She thought back to how mad she had been at him, how
furious
in fact, thinking he was so calm, so controlled, that he didn’t care about all that had been done to her. But he had. He did. He’d sorted the Delaneys, once and for all.
She gave him back the paper. ‘No. No, I don’t want to know the details.’ Her voice shook a little.
The Delaneys were history at last. Annie looked out of the window, watched Windsor Castle fading like a fairy tale beneath the billowing clouds. Her London life was history too.
‘Tell me again about the penthouse,’ she said.
‘It’s big,’ said Constantine.
‘How big?’
‘Huge. Lots of floor space, a roof garden, you’ll love it. Big floor-to-ceiling windows that look right out over Central Park, and there’s…’
She lay back in the seat and listened to the sound of his voice as he told her all about it, the dream of their life together unfolding with every word. Nothing left to do now except
live
it. And shit, she was going to do that.
‘I want a big wedding. The works,’ she said.
‘You got it,’ said Constantine.
‘First an engagement ring. A disgustingly big, vulgar diamond engagement ring.’
‘We’ll do Tiffany’s. First thing.’ He paused. ‘Maybe it’s time you took that ring off now?’
His eyes were on Max’s ring, the slab of bright lapis lazuli set in gold. She was still wearing it on the thumb of her left hand.
‘Yeah,’ said Annie softly. ‘Maybe it is.’
She took it off then, slowly, almost reverently, and slipped it into her handbag.
‘Feels strange,’ she said, looking at her bare hands. ‘Not wearing it.’
‘This disgustingly big, vulgar diamond—how big are we talking here?’
‘
Enormous.
’ Annie brightened and flashed him a grin. Electricity sparked between them.
Oh, she loved him so much
…‘And set in platinum.’
The dream was unfolding: she could see it all now. Layla would be flower girl. Dolly would be matron of honour. Oh, and the
dress.
This was going to be fun.
This was going to be
bliss.
She couldn’t wait.
Annie Carter had finally got it all.