Jessie Keane - Black Widow

Suddenly shaking, Annie took the phone. ‘Hello?’

‘I said I’d call on Friday,’ said the Irish man.

Annie took a breath.

Game on.

‘Yeah, you did.’

‘And here I am, as good as my word.’

‘Yeah.’

‘So…’ He was toying with her again.

‘I want to speak to Layla,’ said Annie, feeling as if she was about to scream.

‘Can’t be done right now.’

‘Why not?’ God, was she hurt? Had they harmed her in some way?

‘I told you before, no questions.’

‘Sorry.’ Annie’s heart was thudding sickeningly in her chest. She could barely breathe.

Dig deep , she thought. Got to dig deep. ‘Listen, think about what I said. We could do a deal. A swap. Hand Layla over and take me instead. Let Layla go and have me.’

There was silence on the other end of the phone, except for that noise again. Teacups, or something. Annie strained to hear it. Maybe it would offer some sort of clue. She was willing to clutch at any straw. But it stopped as soon as it started. She thought that the sound was somehow familiar, but she couldn’t bring it to mind. Her brain was in a flat spin.

‘Ah, no. The kid’s worth more.’

‘More money,’ said Annie grimly.

‘That’s it,’ he said cheerily. ‘Because you’ll pay any amount to get her back, ain’t that a fact? But who’d pay to get you back? No bastard, I’m thinking.’

Annie swallowed hard. ‘Yeah, you’re right,’ she said.

She had no blood kin who would speak up for her. Ruthie was God knew where, and although they had reached a sort of understanding over Annie’s love affair with Max, they hadn’t spoken in a long time. Kath despised her. There was no one else. She wondered how he knew that.

‘And now we come to it,’ he said. ‘The money. What we want from you. From the wealthy Carters.’

But I don’t know where the fucking wealth is, thought Annie wildly. But she kept quiet. Forced herself to.

‘Half a million pounds sterling for the girl. Just that.’

‘What?’

‘You heard me. I’ll phone back next Friday.’

Half a million quid! Annie’s ears rang with shock.

‘Wait,’ she said quickly. ‘Wait.’

‘That gives you a week to raise it,’ he said, rolling right on. ‘One week.’

‘But wait…’ God, why couldn’t she think straight?

‘Wait for what?’ he snapped.

Annie was shaking her head helplessly. ‘I don’t think I can raise that sort of money,’ she blurted.

Silence.

Silence except for that goddamned noise again. What the hell was that noise?

‘Well now,’ he said. ‘That’s a pity.’

‘Wait.’

‘A great pity.’ He sounded regretful.

‘Just wait. I can raise some, but maybe not that much.’

‘Pity. I’ll talk to you next Friday. Same time. Enjoy the gift.’

Gift?

She opened her mouth to speak, but he was already gone.

‘So what happened? How much do they want?’ demanded Dolly as Annie stood there with the phone still in her nerveless hand.

Annie replaced the receiver. ‘Too much,’ she said, and went into the front parlour and closed the door behind her.

Had to think.

Half a million quid.

A total impossibility. She looked at the tray of drinks set out on the sideboard. Vodka, gin, whisky. Anything the punters wanted. She took one of the upended glasses and looked at the bottles.

There was a knock on the door and Darren pushed it open and stood there, lounging against the doorframe, arms folded.

‘Well, one drink’s not going to kill you, now is it, Annie Carter?’ he said.

Annie looked back at him. Looked at the empty glass, the bottles. Thought of her mother lying in hospital, yellowed and skinny and dying, because she had to have the fucking booze.

She put the glass down and turned away from the drinks. ‘Yeah, but could I stop at one?’ she asked him.

‘That bad?’ asked Darren.

Annie nodded. ‘Worse.’

‘Dolly told me you’ve got trouble,’ said Darren.

‘Did she tell Ellie?’

‘What, you afraid she’ll tell the Delaneys your business?’ Darren shook his head. ‘I think Ellie knows which side her bread’s buttered by now. And anyway, they know you’re here, don’t they? Ross must have said. Dolly had to say. And didn’t the big boss of the Delaneys send you a note?’

Annie let out a heartfelt sigh. Yes, Redmond knew she was here and for the moment it seemed he was content to let her stay. How long that would last, she didn’t know.

‘Anyway,’ Darren went on, ‘you’re in tight with the Delaney twins, ain’t that right? I heard you used to be big mates with that gang.’

Which was a bit of a joke, really. She’d never even known the eldest Delaney child, Tory, although she had known his brother Pat-to her cost. And Kieron, too. It was true that Redmond Delaney had once done business with her, and Orla his twin had always been polite-almost, but never quite, friendly. A funny pair, those twins. Cold. Red hair and white skin, a perfect, handsome pair, like book ends carved from marble. Hurt too early to ever recover.

Annie thought of Layla, who might be hurt too, abused, ruined for the whole of her life, and the pain and anxiety started to gnaw at her guts again. She folded her arms over her middle, feeling achy and frozen.

‘Is this trouble something I can help with?’ asked Darren.

Annie looked at him. Good old Darren. He might look like shit, but he was the same. A firm friend; a great listener.

She shook her head.

He indicated the small plaster Dolly had applied over her eye. ‘Heard you had a run-in with our Una. And it looks like you came off worse.’

‘I’m okay, but things could be better. How about you, Darren?’

‘Oh, fine.’

‘Liar. You look ill’

Darren’s mouth twisted and his bright blue eyes moved away from Annie’s. ‘It’s nothing,’ he shrugged.

‘You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,’ said Annie.

‘Not much to tell.’ He went over to the couch and sat down and looked up at her. ‘I was in love, you know,’ he said.

Annie looked at him. ‘With who?’ she asked, more gently. Dolly hadn’t told her this in any of her phone calls. And if Darren had found someone, why was he still here working as a brass? Ah, but he’d said he was in love. Past tense. Over.

‘No one you know. A punter.’ Darren gave the ghost of a chuckle. ‘Stupid, falling for a punter. One of my regulars. We just seemed to…hit it off, you know. And he didn’t seem to care what I was. Which is rare, as you know. Not many men care to associate with us working girls.’

‘So what happened? He go off the idea?’

‘Nah, nothing like that. We were making plans and everything. He worked in the City doing some funny thing or other with money markets-pork-belly futures or something daft like that-and he said he was going to jack it all in and we would take off together. He was rich. Not too old. Late fortyish. Fair bit older than me, but that has its attractions. We were going to travel the world. See Rome, and Paris, and Venice…’

Darren’s voice trailed away and he looked at the floor.

‘Then he got sick,’ he said in a small voice. ‘Cancer. Took about a year and a half, and his sister looked after him for the last six months. I visited every week, which she was pretty sniffy about: didn’t like the whole gay thing at all. He got pneumonia in the end, I was holding his hand when he died…’

Darren swallowed and shook himself and looked up at Annie, eyes bright with tears. ‘So that was that, really,’ he said.

‘Darren, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Dolly never said when she phoned me.’ Annie sat down beside him. She put an arm around his stick-thin shoulders. Jesus, it was like hugging a child!