Jessie Keane - Black Widow

‘Fuck’s sake,’ said Steve, shaking his dark head. ‘Max dead?’

‘Yeah,’ said Annie. ‘I know.’

‘Fucking Jonjo too. But they didn’t kill you,’ said Jackie, eyeing her with a flicker of suspicion.

‘Only because I was more use to them alive. I was the one to provide the money in exchange for my little girl. But I didn’t know where Max’s money was, so I had to go elsewhere to get it, and that’s where their plan started to unravel.’

‘So what the fuck now?’ asked Steve.

Annie took a breath. Her heart was hammering. Her palms were damp with nervous sweat.

‘What the fuck now is this.’ Annie stood up, planted her fists on the table, and looked around at them all. ‘Constantine Barolli’s got the word out for Jimmy. He knows I want him found, so Jimmy’s on borrowed time. I’m taking over here, just as I said. I meant it. So here’s the deal. If you’re with me, that’s fine. That’s good. If you’re not, if you’ve got any doubts about this, or you’re not willing to take orders from a woman, then that’s good too. You can fuck off out of it. Now. This minute. I can get others to take your place.’

Which wasn’t really true, especially not of Gary and Steve. These were staunch, reliable men, and she believed them to be unflinchingly loyal to the firm. She needed them.

‘So.’ She stared around at them. Tony stepped forward and stood at her shoulder, a solid wall of menacing muscle. ‘Who’s with me, and who’s for walking out that fucking door?’ she asked.

Dead silence.

Then finally Gary said, ‘If this is true, all this stuff about Jimmy doing Max and Jonjo, we want to deal with him.’

There were nods and murmurs of agreement from around the table.

‘We will deal with him,’ Annie promised. ‘You think I ain’t got the bottle for that or something? He had my husband killed and my daughter kidnapped. We’ll deal with him all right.’

Gary and Steve exchanged another look.

‘Then…I reckon we’re with you,’ said Steve.

‘Yeah,’ said Jackie. ‘Me too.’

‘And me,’ said Derek.

‘Yeah,’ said Benny.

Thank fuck for that , thought Annie.

When she got back to Limehouse they were holding a party for Darren; he’d told them straight-no wakes. And so a bloody party was what they were having. All their best clients were in, enjoying themselves in a strictly non-sexual way-this wasn’t that sort of party-swigging champagne and eating nibbles, dancing like nutters to the England World Cup squad singing Back Home.

At the end of the evening, Dolly got up and a hush fell over the room. Annie sat on the couch with Layla dozing on her lap. Aretha and Ellie were standing by the door, their faces solemn. Aretha patted Ellie on the back. Ellie-poor, two-faced Ellie-would miss Darren the most.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, you all knew Darren,’ said Dolly into the sudden sober silence. ‘He was kind, and gentle, and funny. He was also-and none of us knew this about him until right at the end of his short life-bloody brave. He was trying to save the life of this little girl right here.’ Dolly indicated Layla. ‘Our Darren had the heart of a lion. So let’s drink a toast to him now. To our dear friend who is now at peace-to Darren.’

A roar of approval went up around the room. Ellie burst into tears, and Aretha hugged her. Dolly swiped away a tear or two.

God bless you, Darren , thought Annie, hugging Layla’s warm little body closely to hers.

‘Now come on-who wants more champers…?’ And Dolly was off around the room again, and the music restarted-the Stones doing Honky Tonk Woman -and suddenly the party was back on.

Just as Darren would have wanted.

Later that night, after Annie had tucked Layla up in Dolly’s bed, she took out the scrap of paper Kath had given her and looked at it.

Ruthie’s number.

The number of the sister she had betrayed, and still missed like a part of herself.

She wondered if she dared ring.

Would Ruthie want to talk to her? She wasn’t sure. And she was-all right she could admit it to herself-terrified of Ruthie rejecting her all over again. She’d been through all that already, and to open up that particular wound would be more painful than she could stand right now.

Annie sat on the bed in the darkened room, watching her daughter sleep. She found it hard to take her eyes off Layla, even for a moment. She couldn’t believe that she had her back again. It was nothing short of a miracle.

Her nerves felt raw, she had been through too much these last few weeks.

She couldn’t take aggro off Ruthie, not right now. She put the paper back in her pocket.

There was a soft tap at the door.

‘Who is it?’ she hissed.

The door opened a crack and Ross put his head around it. She still wasn’t his favourite person, but Layla’s presence had thawed him, just a bit. He clearly loved kids.

‘Phone for you,’ he said.

Annie’s heart clenched. It was very late. Was there trouble? Kath…?

She followed Ross downstairs and picked up the receiver. It was Steve Taylor.

‘We caught up with the tart,’ he said bluntly.

Una.

‘You want to know the details?’ he asked.

‘No. So long as it’s sorted.’

‘It’s sorted.’

Annie heaved a sigh of deep satisfaction. Una was gone. Thank God.

‘It was a piece of piss,’ said Steve casually. ‘Found her, followed her-and she led us to a little bonus.’

Annie’s heart-rate picked up. Her own boys had beaten the Barolli mob to the post and she felt proud. ‘Where are you?’

‘Queenie’s,’ said Steve. ‘You want to come over?’

‘I’ll be right there.’

She reluctantly left Layla in Dolly’s care. This had to be seen through to the bitter end, and she knew it. Tony drove her over there. He knocked on the door and Jackie Tulliver let them in.

Jimmy Bond was on his knees in the empty front room. All the boys were standing around looking at him, with disgust written clear on their faces. You didn’t betray the firm. That just wasn’t done. Jimmy was going to learn that the hard way.

He’d obviously put up a fight when they’d caught him. Annie looked at his bruised, swollen, and bloody face as he knelt there, no longer hard or handsome, no longer immaculate, his shirt torn, his trousers muddy. His hands were tied behind his back. When she entered he squinted up at her with eyes that were almost closed, so severe was the beating he’d had.

‘Hi, Jimmy,’ said Annie, walking forward to stand over him.

‘Fucking bitch,’ said Jimmy, and spat out a tooth.

Annie hauled back and kicked him hard in the balls. He doubled over, wheezing and retching.

‘That’s for Layla,’ she said.

Gary Tooley was leaning his lanky frame against the mantelpiece, watching. ‘What you want done?’ he asked.

Annie stared down at the wreck in front of her and spoke to Jimmy Bond.

‘The only reason you ain’t dead already is because you’re the father of Kath’s kids, you know that?’

Jimmy gulped and coughed, his eyes on the floor. He nodded.

‘If it was up to me I’d stick you on a meat hook. You had Max and Jonjo killed and my Layla kidnapped. You ain’t anywhere near paying for all that yet.’

Gary was still looking at her; all the boys were. Asking the question. What did she want done?

Annie’s eyes lifted from Jimmy and she looked around at them-her boys, there to do her bidding.

‘You know what?’ she said at last. ‘I’ll leave it to you, boys. You choose. But I want no comebacks, you got that? No comebacks.’