Authors: Martina Cole
Peter Parkes had grown up a lot in the last ten years and he relished his status as a man of the world. Peter made his presence felt on every level. He was aware that his workforce didn’t exactly like him, but he was at least respected as a fair, if somewhat hard, boss. If he had learned anything from Cain Moran it was that to stay at the top you always had to be one step ahead, not just of your competitors, but of any wannabe that might work close to you.
His part in Cain’s downfall and the death of Johnny Mac didn’t bother him in the least. He had never liked Johnny and the feeling had been mutual; he suspected that Johnny had never entirely trusted him − well, he had been right about that. He would have preferred Cain Moran dead too, and that was what he was working towards now. Cain Moran’s reputation was ever more stellar inside than it had been on the out. That he had been badly treated was a common topic of conversation, and Peter knew that went a long way with the older men in the business.
Since the Irish had bailed, he had been given a much clearer idea of what Lenny wanted the organisation to be involved in. Drugs were the main earner, but that was par for the course these days. They still controlled the movement of all shipments and decided the prices. If working for Cain Moran had taught him anything, it was to always make sure everyone got a decent earn − that way, you cut down on people brokering side deals for themselves. Anyone caught doing that was punishable by death. That was the final word on the subject.
The only fly in his ointment was Lenny McAvoy. He was still living in the 1960s and that annoyed Peter. Lenny was a good bloke in many respects but he had passed his sell-by date a long time ago. The fact was, Peter didn’t need him any more. Once Cain Moran was out of the picture for good – and that was providing that silly little cunt James Banks achieved his objective − Peter was going to out Lenny as well. He would disappear and that would be the end of it.
Peter Parkes’s wife Lola was a tall, leggy redhead, with killer tits and a serious coke habit. As he walked into his house he could hear her shouting at their twin sons like a banshee. He rolled his eyes in annoyance and went through to the large state-of-the-art kitchen. His sons were only eighteen months old, and she expected them to act like adults; it was fucking laughable. He saw the mirrored tile on the breakfast bar, with lines already cut, and a rolled-up twenty-pound note beside the residue.
‘Keep the fucking noise down, you silly bitch!’ His two boys toddled towards him, glad to see their father. ‘Where’s the fucking au pair? What am I paying her for?’
Lola laughed nastily. ‘The au pair has fucking been sacked, for fucking the boss as usual. Honestly, you can’t keep it in your fucking trousers, can you?’
He closed his eyes in distress. He really had to stop shagging those young Swedish girls; it always ended badly for everyone concerned.
‘The next one to come here is going to be short, fat and hairy. Even you wouldn’t sink that fucking low.’
Peter didn’t answer her; he really couldn’t argue with that.
Caroline was drunk − drunker than she had been in years. Her face was still a mass of bruising and pain, so the alcohol and the painkillers were making her even worse than usual. Michael tried to help her, but it was a pointless exercise.
‘She will get her fucking just deserts, you mark my words.’
‘Mum, it’s early afternoon and you can barely string a sentence together. Why don’t you go and lie down? Or at least eat something.’ He never thought he would be asking her to eat, so it proved how far gone she was. Normally he was begging her to stop; he was convinced she would have a heart attack if she didn’t sort herself out.
She was mumbling now, going on about how much she hated his dad, how he had dumped them for his new whore. It was a story he had heard since he could remember. It was funny, but he didn’t really feel any animosity towards Jenny Riley. She was just as caught in the crossfire as he was, and he had made it his business to look up his brother a few times. There was no doubt they had the same father and he seemed like a good kid.
It was his father he blamed for everything, because his leaving had turned Caroline into a shadow of her former self. She had been funny once, full of fun and laughter, but those times were few and far between. If only she could move on but, as Aunt Dolly had pointed out to him on many occasions over the years, she didn’t
want
to get over it. She revelled in her sorry state and her life dictated that she could never experience happiness like normal people. She just moped around, and the only time she was even remotely normal was in the diner. There she generated a bit of her old sparkle, and laughed and joked with the customers, making sure the food was top notch and the atmosphere was good. It was the only success in her life and it clearly meant the world to her. But for his sake he wished she would just let the anger go. He wanted a mother, not a drunken bitch whose life was a constant stream of invective.
Michael remembered how it had been when his dad came home to
them
and not to Jenny Riley. He had been a happy kid then and lived for his father’s attention, but he realised now that it wasn’t enough. Cain should have been kicking a ball with him, coming to his school, but the fact was he never had done any of those things. He was always working, keeping nightclub hours most of the week, and he was rarely about except for on Sunday mornings after a heavy Saturday night. Michael remembered those long breakfasts, though, when his mum would push the boat out and they would have American pancakes with maple syrup, and bacon and eggs. That was another lifetime.
Still it was a nice place to visit in his head sometimes; he liked to remember the good times with his dad. There had been some − whatever his mum might think. But that was long ago and now the man was banged up. Good riddance to bad rubbish.
Well, his dad was finally getting his new family today, all signed, sealed and delivered. He hoped the new Morans fared better than the last lot. Because his dad had a fucking lot to answer for.
‘Nice suit that, Cain. Handmade?’
Cain nodded. It was a long time since he had worn anything other than casual clothes or gym sweats. The suit was a reminder of everything that he had lost, of a life gone from him, and that was putting a shadow over his day. If he wasn’t careful he would become depressed. It happened to a lot of the younger men especially − depression and anxiety were reasons why drug and alcohol abuse was so rife. It was hard to keep upbeat and cheerful all the time. Someone once said that prison and doing time was a state of mind and they were right. It was about keeping in the moment, living day to day, and not dwelling too much on the past or the future. But Cain couldn’t help mourning what he once had. He felt almost tearful.
‘The last time I wore this suit was for a business dinner. Jenny was wearing a cream dress which showed off her cleavage to advantage. It was a good night.’ He could hear the regret in his own voice.
Blokko laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t dwell on it, mate. Listen, you got her today, by your side. She is one of the good ones. Don’t fuck it up by wishful thinking.’
Cain laughed. ‘You’re right, mate. Besides, I’m feeling on top of the world. I’ve sorted out something that’s been on my mind for years, and it’s my wedding day.’
Blokko left him then, and Cain resumed his preparations for his wedding. He couldn’t wait to see Jenny, and his boy, of course. He wondered how Michael was − he had written to the lad a few times but never heard back from him. Natural, he supposed, that he would take his mum’s side.
Cain Junior had always written to him at least once a week, rambling letters about his life. He knew Jenny probably made it fun, sat with him and discussed what he would tell his dad. She was good like that − she could make anything seem like an adventure, even something as boring as writing a letter.
He was getting choked up again, and he had to fight back the tears. What was wrong with him today? He had to sort himself out − the last thing he needed was to break down. His credibility would never be the same again. He could just imagine the ribbing he would have to take from the others, but he couldn’t help it. He felt very emotional today.
Last night at the stag party, he had cooked as usual and the men had all brought drink to the table. They had discussed marriage, women, sex, the usual male ribald topics. But it had set him thinking about the future, and how long it would be before he could enjoy a real married life with his wife. Another fifteen years at least before he could even hope to get out. Suddenly it seemed so fucking far away, even though he was already nearly ten into his sentence. The knowledge that he would have to wait so long to be beside his wife hit him hard. He wondered once again if it had really been worth it.
Taking a deep breath, he settled himself to the tasks in hand. Regrets were for fools − what was important now was getting through the days, and that was what he had to focus on. Today would be a good day, he knew that much.
He heard someone come in his cell and, as he turned towards the noise, he saw the flash of metal, and realised instantly that young James had decided to take matters into his hands a little earlier than expected. The fucking idiot! If he had only waited as promised.
Bringing up his arms, Cain Moran knew he was in a fight for his life.
Peter Parkes was sitting at his breakfast bar, drinking a cold beer, scanning the headlines of the
Sun
, when two men walked through his patio doors and shot him dead.
Lola heard the shots from the pool house as she watched her sons paddling in the baby pool Peter had installed a few weeks before. She instantly recognised the sound of the gunshots and knew they must mean bad news.
Scooping up her sons to go and investigate, Lola felt sure of what she was going to find. Having just sacked the au pair, she was irritated to think she would have to deal with everything herself. Really, some people were so fucking selfish. She popped the boys in their playpen and cleared away her drug paraphernalia before she finally called the police. One look at her husband had been enough to tell her it was too late for an ambulance.
Lenny McAvoy was in his office in Liverpool when the telephone rang. He picked it up and listened for a few moments before throwing the receiver across the room in fury.
‘Fuck!’ he bellowed. This news was not good.
He headed out, motioning to the two heavies standing guard to follow him.
‘Come on, lads, we’re going to London.’
As they got in the car and the driver turned the key, there was an ominous click.
Lenny desperately lunged for the door. But it was too late.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Eileen’s voice was rising an octave a word as she tried to comprehend what the PO was saying to her.
Molly and Cain Junior were equally disbelieving and Jenny was white with shock as she demanded, ‘Where is he? Is he OK?’
Jock McFarland was a soft touch where a pretty woman was concerned; he liked Jenny Riley and really didn’t relish being the bearer of bad news. ‘He’s alive, Jenny, but badly cut up. It was a clear case of self-defence but, as the other man is dead, we’ll have to hold an inquiry. It’s such bad luck this had to happen today of all days.’
Jenny dropped into a chair and, putting her head in her hands, wept bitter tears. She couldn’t believe it. Everything she had put up with over the years had been made bearable by the thought of this day. Now it was ruined. Once again, the consequences of Cain’s lifestyle had destroyed something precious to her and, for the first time ever, she felt a huge wave of resentment towards him. She had never asked for much – this was all she had ever wanted for herself.
Now her dreams were shattered, and she was left like fucking Cinderella – all dressed up with no fucking ball to go to.
Molly Moran was beside herself with fear, and she wondered why Jenny didn’t appear more worried after learning of his injuries. ‘Can we see him? Can his wife at least see him?’
Jenny stood abruptly and said quietly, ‘I’m not his wife, though, am I? You can see him if you like, Molly. Personally, I’m going home. I can’t deal with this at the moment. If they let you in, tell him I said he can get fucked.’
With that, Jenny pulled her son towards the door, her mother following on behind in stunned silence. Eileen had not expected her Jenny to react like that.
Molly called after them, ‘You heard the man, Jenny. It wasn’t his fault!’
Jenny didn’t even slow down as she said seriously, ‘No, it never fucking is his fault, is it?’
Jock McFarland didn’t know how to react, so he did just what his mother always did in an awkward situation and asked Molly Moran with forced cheer, ‘Can I get you a cup of tea, darlin’?’
Cain Moran was being stitched up in the infirmary; the cuts were deep and painful, but not enough to get him to the local hospital. He was fuming with James Banks Junior. The silly little fucker had ruined everything for Jenny, Cain Junior and his mother. Enraged, Cain had used all the considerable force he possessed when he plunged his blade into Banks’s neck. If the stupid little cunt had waited a few days it would have been sorted. Once he had known Parkes was out of the picture, leaving him with no backup, he would have definitely folded. He wasn’t a foolish kid; he would have understood he had no chance without support.
Now Banks was dead, and Cain’s wedding day was completely fucked. His fury was such that he didn’t even need an anaesthetic while he had the stitches. Instead, the pain felt good, real, and it took his mind off his troubles momentarily. Poor Jenny – she would be devastated, bless her heart. He loved that woman so much, and he had planned on showing her just how much in the room he had arranged for them; he could have held her and loved her once more for a precious hour. Now, thanks to that prize prat, it had all gone to shit.