Jessie Keane - Black Widow

Annie’s first thought when they got to the Barolli residence was that she’d made a huge mistake in coming here. There were swarms of people wearing expensive clothes and buttonholes unloading from limos and taxis and going in through the front door. She clocked two obvious faces checking invites.

Fuck it , she thought. The wedding was today. And it looked as if the reception was going on chez Barolli.

‘You didn’t tell me the wedding was today,’ she told Tony in frustration.

Tony shrugged.

‘I didn’t know, Mrs Carter.’

Annie thought it over. But not for long. She was too hyped up to just turn around and go home. Home! Well, back to Dolly’s place anyway. Her home was gone, along with her life.

‘Wait for me, Tony,’ she told him, and got out, slamming the door behind her.

This time she was careful; she looked left and right before hurrying across the road. She shuddered again as she thought of what could have happened. Had someone really intended to knock her down? Other people, people dressed up to the nines in their wedding finery, were ambling along the path up to the big house in front of her, chattering and laughing, making her grind her teeth at their slowness.

It gave her time, though, to look up at the house. It was just as big as Max’s Surrey place. It was a red-brick William and Mary mansion, beautifully proportioned and standing full-square. As she edged toward the pillared doorway and the big men in black suits, she saw the lollipop bay trees placed on either side of the vast doorway, decorated with pink and cream satin ribbons.

Moving along with the crowds, she slowly ascended the six big curving marble steps leading up to the front door. Chamber music, refined and gentle and soothing, drifted out from the open doorway along with a gust of warm air.

Finally she was on the top step.

Now the people right in front of her were wandering off inside, into a palatial and opulently lit hallway, taking champagne from a silver tray held out by a waitress. And one of the men in black was holding out his hand for her invitation.

‘I don’t have an invite,’ said Annie, pulling herself up to her full height. ‘I’ve got urgent business with Mr Barolli.’

There was a roar of laughter from inside. The taller of the two heavies was regarding her with gently quizzical eyes.

‘Mr Barolli is busy today. Family business. His daughter’s wedding.’

‘Still, I need to see him. It’s urgent. Or I wouldn’t bother him, believe me.’

The two men exchanged a look, then the one she was talking to shook his head and reached past her to take the invitation card from the next guest.

‘I have to see him,’ she said, as the guests around her looked at her curiously.

Annie suddenly realized what a strange picture she must present. All in black, with her hair uncombed and no make-up on her face. More suitably attired for a funeral than a wedding.

Should have thought this through , she berated herself.

‘I have to see him. Please,’ she said more urgently.

Guests were moving past her, their eyes on this strange woman with her desperate ashen face and her weird black clothing.

The two heavies no longer seemed to be hearing her.

‘Seen enough?’ Annie snapped at one woman wearing a huge pink-feathered hat. The woman quickly looked away.

One of the heavies moved in and gently clasped Annie’s arm.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘Come back tomorrow. Or phone.’

Annie shook her head. ‘I need to see Mr Barolli,’ she reiterated.

‘Well, perhaps Mr Barolli don’t need to see you. Not today, anyway.’

‘Tell him I’m here, will you?’

‘Please go away.’ He gently clasped her arm.

‘Look, it’s all right,’ said Annie. Another minute and he’d be hustling her down the steps and off the premises. She had to convince him she wasn’t trouble.

But she knew that’s exactly what she looked like. Unhinged. Disarrayed. Crazy.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ said Annie, pulling her arm free. ‘I’m not here to make trouble. I just need to see him. Look, I’ll wait.’

She went over to the far edge of the top step and sat down on it.

‘I’ll wait, okay?’ she said hopefully.

Fortunately they were busy or they’d have kicked her arse straight off that step and down the others, she was sure of that. They went back to attending to the invited guests, who continued to file past Annie and gawp at her curiously. Annie tried to ignore them.

She just sat there, waiting.

She was still there when the last of the guests had gone in, and the heavies went inside too, closing the door on the laughter, the music, the warmth.

Annie sat there and shivered.

Along the road, as the light started to go, she could see Tony sitting in the Jag, watching her with anxious eyes.

He thinks I’ve lost it , thought Annie. How long before he trots off to the nearest phone box and calls Jimmy and tells him I’ve flipped?

It was almost dark now. Two big lights came on over the porch, and moths started to do their suicidal dance around them. Annie could faintly hear the music going on, the laughter, the clink of glasses.

Time passed.

After what she guessed was about an hour-she wasn’t wearing a watch-one of the heavies opened the door and stared out at her, then shut the door again.

Time went on. She couldn’t see Tony behind the Jag’s wheel any more, and she hoped he hadn’t gone and found a phone box; she hoped he wasn’t talking to Jimmy at this minute; she hoped and prayed the pair of them weren’t going to come and grab her and move her on as if she was a drunken old bag lady. That would be embarrassing.

Her buttocks were numb from sitting on the step. She was stiff. She was aching.

More time passed.

It was full dark when she stood up creakily. Had to either fuck off or bang on the door. Couldn’t decide which. Time to shit or get off the pot , she thought, and approached the door, her fist raised.

The door opened.

The blast of light, heat, and noise made her blink.

‘All right, what’s your name?’ asked one of the heavies, looming in the doorway.

‘Carter,’ said Annie, swallowing her surprise. ‘Annie Carter. Max Carter’s w-’ Widow. She’d nearly said widow. Maybe she really was losing it. ‘Wife. I’m Annie Carter, Max Carter’s wife.’

‘Wait.’

‘No! Hold on.’ Annie brought Max’s ring out of her pocket. ‘Show him this, will you?’

The man nodded and took the ring. The door closed again.

Annie stood there, staring at her reflection in the highly polished navy blue paintwork of the door.

Now, of course, he wouldn’t see her anyway , she thought in dreary exhaustion. And what the hell would she say to him if she saw him? Hey, lend me half a million? Help me out here? Her mind felt numb and woolly, not her own. It was no good. Jimmy was right, Layla was dead meat and here she was, kidding herself that she could save the day. Save her daughter. Rescue a situation that was already too far beyond her control.

She turned and walked down the steps.

Give it up, you silly cow.

And then the door opened behind her, and light flooded out. She blinked as she looked back up the steps, at the man who was standing there in the open doorway.

‘Mr Barolli will see you now,’ he said.

The noise and the hot crush of bodies inside nearly defeated her. She stumbled after the hulking shape of the heavy as he cut a swathe through the glittering crowds beneath huge, brilliantly lit chandeliers. The place was massive, she took in that much. A huge curving staircase, swathed with more ribbons…hundreds of candles, all alight with a golden glow that warmed the happy scene…massive arrangements of white lilies in glass bowls.