Jessie Keane - Black Widow

But still, Annie felt the grief cutting into her like a razor-edged knife.

Darren had been a good friend: the best. They had been through so much together, all five of them. And now it was time to say goodbye.

She leaned in close to him, knowing that this was all down to her; that Darren was dying because of her, because of Layla.

‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ she asked him.

‘Can’t think of a damned thing,’ he said, and gave a weak ghost of his usual cheery smile. Then the smile faded and he winced and coughed. Blood sprang to his lips. Ellie wiped it away with a corner of her cardigan.

‘Don’t try to talk,’ said Dolly, distraught.

‘Won’t have the…chance much longer,’ he said, grimacing.

‘It’s okay,’ said Dolly, her voice cracking with emotion. ‘Just rest, just try and rest…’

‘Yeah, what made you think you could charge in here and act the bloody hero anyway?’ asked Aretha, but the harsh words were softened by a tone of love. There were tears on her cheeks. She was going to miss him like crazy. They all were.

‘You’re only jealous…because you didn’t get the…chance to do it,’ whispered Darren, and started coughing again. He closed his eyes.

‘Shh,’ said Dolly soothingly.

Darren’s blue eyes opened. They looked around vaguely, as if he couldn’t see too well. They fastened on Annie’s face.

‘There is something,’ he mumbled.

‘Name it,’ said Annie. ‘Anything.’

Darren told her. Annie nodded, and tried to smile at him. ‘It’s done,’ she assured him.

‘And so am I, my darlings…’ sighed Darren, closing his eyes again.

‘You’re such a fucking drama queen,’ cried Aretha.

‘Yeah, that’s me…’ He coughed again, wincing with pain. ‘Oh…fuck…’

‘Shh,’ said Dolly, her face fraught as she smoothed his brow with her hand, giving him whatever comfort she could.

Darren stopped coughing, his breath wheezing out, all the tension seeming to drain out of him.

He didn’t breathe in.

They watched him. Nothing.

Annie put her hand to his neck. There was no pulse.

Darren was gone.

Tony took the girls back to Limehouse an hour later. They were all subdued. After Constantine made a couple of quick telephone calls he left with Annie and Layla, leaving two of his men to stay there and see to the clearing-up of the kidnappers and to make arrangements for Darren. They would take him to a hospital and leave him there. Nothing else they could do for him right now.

‘Go careful with him,’ Annie told him.

Constantine’s other heavy drove him and Annie and Layla round to Harley Street where a private doctor was waiting to check Layla out.

Annie stayed with Layla while the doctor gave her a thorough examination, assisted by a friendly, professional nurse. They checked over the stump on her hand and replaced the dressings, declaring that it was healing and would cause her no trouble.

Yeah, except she’s going to be one finger short for the rest of her life , thought Annie angrily.

They also checked her to be sure that she had not been physically or sexually assaulted, something Annie protested against at first, but she knew it had to be done. To Annie’s great relief, Layla was fine. Completely fine. It was Annie who physically shook and felt nauseous and bit her lip throughout the examination, while Layla chatted brightly to the nurse and seemed to be suffering no ill effects whatsoever.

‘The problems might manifest themselves later,’ said the doctor to Annie, when it was all-thank God-over.

‘Meaning?’ Annie asked, anxiety flooding through her like a poisonous stream.

‘Children sometimes bury things,’ he said. ‘Painful things. And sometimes these things come out later. Physically she is fine, but mentally there may be scars.’

Annie listened as Layla wittered on to the nurse, seemingly completely okay. But maybe damaged.

Please don’t let that be the case , she prayed. You’ve brought her home to me, now let that be the end of it.

Then they checked Annie herself. There was bad bruising over her ribs, and on her legs, but she was tough; she’d survive, she’d heal.

Constantine was in the waiting room. He stood up when she emerged and Layla dashed straight over to him, smiling. Annie hung back a little, more cautious than her daughter. But didn’t they say kids always knew who was basically good and who was bad?

Constantine was a mobster. Annie had no illusions about that. But also…also he had moved heaven and earth to help her. Layla already liked him. And she had to confess, if only to herself, that she liked him too.

She liked the way he squatted down to Layla’s level and chatted easily to her about how nice the doctor was, and that the nurse was a lovely lady, not as nice as her mummy, but really lovely.

‘Well, your mummy’s a very special lady,’ he told her gravely.

‘Yeah, she is. My daddy’s nice too.’

Constantine’s eyes met Annie’s over Layla’s head.

Jesus, how was she supposed to break news like that to Layla? wondered Annie hopelessly. How could she possibly tell a girl who was not quite four years old that her father was dead?

‘It’ll all work out,’ Constantine told her when she stood there looking troubled. It was as if he’d read her mind.

Constantine stood up, swinging Layla up into his arms. She laughed at the speed of it, and clung on to him as if she’d always known him, as if none of this nightmare had even happened.

Children bury things , Annie recalled the doctor’s words. Problems can come out later.

‘Will it all work out? Really?’ Annie fretted, wondering if, after all this, Layla could stand to hear that Max was gone.

‘Sure it will,’ he told her positively. ‘The worst is over. Where to now?’

Annie told him where she wanted to go next. ‘But if you’re busy, I can call Tony…’ she said awkwardly.

‘I’m not busy,’ he said, and a look passed between them over Layla’s head. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

Half an hour later Annie was standing on Jeanette’s doorstep. The door had been mended. When the blonde opened it in a grubby bathrobe, looking bedraggled, her face formed into a scowl at the sight of Annie.

‘Oh, it’s you.’

‘Yeah. Thanks for the warm welcome.’

If Jeanette had known the state her family were in right now, the welcome would have been even less effusive.

‘What, you’re not going to bust my door off its hinges this time?’ Jeanette demanded irritably. From back in the house there came a wail. ‘Oh for fuck’s sake. ’ Jeanette closed her eyes as if trying to hold on to the last shreds of her sanity.

Jimmy Junior came toddling out from the kitchen. He looked grubby too. His clothes were dirty and his face was streaked with snot.

‘Will you for God’s sake stop making all this bloody noise ,’ Jeanette yelled at him.

Annie saw the little boy’s grin fade as he shrank back, startled. ‘Don’t yell at him like that,’ she said.

Jimmy Junior’s eyes met her and he held out his arms. ‘Choc,’ he said. ‘Choc!’

Annie gave a wry smile. ‘Nothing wrong with your memory, is there, little Jim?’ She walked past Jeanette and went to the little boy. ‘Want to go and get some more chocolate with your Auntie Annie?’

‘Yeah!’ Jimmy Junior looked delighted.

From the kitchen came a longer, louder wail. The baby was crying, shrieking its head off.

Probably hungry. Or hadn’t had her nappy changed in a month of Sundays…Annie stalked grimly in there and the smell hit her like a punch in the nose. The baby was lying there in its cot, wet through, bawling its poor little head off.