Jessie Keane - Lawless

‘That you actually believed I could rub out my old mate.’

‘I didn’t know you. I still don’t. My toes are cold.’

‘You hungry?’

‘No.’

‘OK.’

‘You said I was on my own. That you wouldn’t help me, or Kit,’ said Ruby, feeling a little breathless.

‘I know I did.’

‘So…?’ Ruby leaned in until she was nose to nose with him.

‘I lied,’ said Thomas, and pulled her inside and kissed her.

An hour later, most of the champagne had been drunk and they were in the heated luxury of the pool, swimming naked.

‘Forgiven me yet?’ asked Ruby, floating; this felt like paradise.

‘Dunno,’ said Thomas. ‘So you found out who did it in the end,’ he said.

‘We found out who was behind it.’

‘Kit going to let it rest there?’

‘I doubt it. So, am I forgiven?’

‘Still dunno.’

‘You want me to beg? On my knees?’

‘That could be interesting.’

‘You’ve got a sadistic streak.’

‘You love it.’

‘Hm,’ said Ruby, as he pulled her into his arms. ‘I think I might be falling in love with you,’ she murmured against his mouth, gazing into those stony blue eyes.

‘You think ?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Well, let me persuade you…’

It was Sunday lunch at Rob’s family home. Rob’s dad had already settled in front of the telly with his beer, and Rob’s two married older sisters were on the sofa, chatting and doing their nails. His two teenage brothers were play-fighting, bouncing around the living room like they were on speed.

‘Careful!’ cautioned Dad, peering around them at the screen.

Of course they didn’t take a blind bit of notice. They romped up and down the hallway, up and down the stairs, making a bloody row.

Rob assembled them all, asked Dad to turn down the telly, called Mum in from the kitchen. The table was already set.

‘What is it? This ruddy dinner won’t cook itself,’ said his mum, red in the face and undoing her apron in a hurry.

‘Just a quick word,’ said Rob. He glanced at his watch. ‘I’m off to get her. We’ll be back in under an hour. Now the thing is, no one laughs at her posh voice. All right?’

‘We wouldn’t do that,’ said Mum, but the boys were already doing shrug-shouldered impressions of Ted Heath laughing.

‘I mean it,’ said Rob, giving them a stern look.

‘Hmph,’ said Dad.

The family Sunday lunch. Always a nightmare. And now he was going to thrust Daisy into this madhouse, the poor cow.

He drove over and collected her from Ruby’s place. She looked terrific, as always. Gorgeous. They kissed on the doorstep. Ruby was out, visiting a friend, Daisy said, then she’d be having Kit over for dinner this evening.

Daisy was ecstatic at how well Kit and Ruby were getting on now.

‘Yeah, well, it shook him, nearly losing her like that,’ said Rob when Daisy enthused about it. ‘Woke him up, I think. Made him see the light. Made him see what a prize prat he was being.’

He drove them back to his parents’ house. Took her inside.

‘Hello!’ she said, beaming around at them all.

‘It’s like a fuckin’ royal visit,’ said one of the boys, and Dad cuffed him.

‘Hello, Daisy,’ said Rob’s dad, standing up and holding out a hand. ‘Come on in.’

And much to Rob’s surprise, it was all right. It really was.

November 1975

It was a day much like the one on which Michael Ward had died a year ago. Two thirty in the afternoon and already the sky was a darkening purple-grey bowl over their heads. It was drizzling, and there was a cold wind blowing. Browning leaves were drifting down from the silver birches and the oaks around the perimeter of the graveyard, forming a mushy uneven carpet on the tussocks of grass around the graves.

Kit had parked the Bentley at the cemetery gates and together he and Ruby had walked slowly over to Michael’s final resting place beneath the yew tree. The headstone was large, black granite inlaid with gold, and elaborately carved; Kit had chosen it, paid for it.

Here Lies Michael Ward

Much Loved, Much Missed

While Kit looked on, Ruby emptied the dying flowers from the urn, refreshed the water from the tap beside the gate, and arranged the new red roses on the grave. Then she stood up and slipped her arm through Kit’s. He didn’t flinch away, not any more.

‘A whole fucking year,’ said Kit with a sigh.

Ruby squeezed his arm. ‘He meant such a lot to you,’ she said. ‘I know that.’

Kit looked at her. She almost thought there was a glint of tears in his eyes. He’d lost so much, her poor nameless boy. Michael, Gilda, Bianca…

‘He was my dad, you know. My true dad. Not that fucker Cornelius.’

‘We both loved him.’

Ruby thought about how much Michael had meant to her. There had been just one betrayal, with Vi, with a woman who pursued him fanatically, put it right there on a plate. Foisted it in his face, the bitch. Maybe she wouldn’t have forgiven him for that if he’d still been alive, but he was dead, the victim of one woman’s mad obsession, so what the hell, what difference did any of it make now?

‘Kit?’

‘Hm?’ He was staring at the gravestone.

‘Have you really forgiven me? Truly? Completely?’

Kit looked up and his eyes met hers. He heaved a sharp sigh.

‘You know what? For the longest time, I couldn’t. I tried. For Michael, I tried. But I couldn’t do it. And then I was shot. And Rob told me about how you sat there beside me all the time, even though you were exhausted, wrung out, you sat there and talked to me, willing me back to life. And I could hear you. It was a fucking frightening place to be, but I could hear your voice and… well, it made it bearable somehow.’

Tears slipped down Ruby’s face as she recalled how awful it had been, fearing he would die. Kit squeezed her arm. ‘Hey, don’t cry. Everything’s fine now. You and me, we’re OK. All right?’

Ruby nodded, smiling through her tears.

‘Perhaps she’ll come back,’ said Ruby, sniffing. ‘Bianca, I mean.’

She knew that was his dearest wish, but she was torn over it, wanting his happiness but fearful of his choices. Really, she was glad Bianca was gone. The girl had hurt him, nearly killed him.

Kit stared at his mother’s face. Ruby was being kind, trying to give him a little hope, but he had none, not any more. Ah shit, Bianca! He’d searched for her so hard, he’d nearly gone crazy looking for her. He’d had word out on the street, find her, find her. But no one did. He’d gone to the Danieri house. He didn’t give a fuck if he ran into Fabio there, but as it happened he didn’t. There was no cream Morgan on the drive, no sign of Bianca. The old woman was there, Bella, and she came to the front door when he rang the bell.

‘Is Bianca here?’ he asked her flat-out.

And what had struck him as weird was that Bella didn’t answer. Eyes blank, she turned and shuffled across the hall and into the kitchen, then sat down at the table. Kit followed. Somewhere in the building ‘ Nessun Dorma ’ was playing on a stereo. The kitchen was dirty, disorderly. Everywhere there was dust and mess. The place felt cold, and there was a faint smell, sour and unpleasant, hanging in the frigid air as he crossed the hall – like something nasty had crawled behind a wall and died.

‘Have you seen Vittore?’ she asked him.

Kit looked at Bella more closely. Shit, she’s off her head , he thought.

‘I told them blood would flow. I warned them,’ she said, thin lips trembling. ‘Sometimes I think I see her, you know. In the hall.’