Читать книгу The Annie Carter Series Books 1–4 - Jessie Keane - Страница 31

The phone was ringing as Annie shot past it on the stairs. Chris, sitting like a well-fed Buddha just inside the door reading the Daily Sketch, reached out but she shook her head and snatched it up. It was Friday. Party day. She had decided that her parties would be held at lunchtimes, when all the other women in the road would be busy in their kitchens – too busy to take an interest in what was going on here. She was wound up fit to burst.

‘Good morning, Miss Bailey,’ said Redmond Delaney.

‘Ah, Mr Delaney,’ said Annie, hopping from one foot to the other in her impatience to get on. ‘Good morning.’

‘I hope you are well?’

‘Very well. Thank you. And you?’

‘I’m fine.’

Annie was getting used to the weekly calls now. She didn’t nearly shit herself with fear any more when she heard that cool Irish lilt on the end of the phone. Redmond was just keeping an eye on his business interests, that was all. It was nothing personal. It was sort of reassuring, really.

‘Is everything ready for the party?’ asked Redmond.

Darren and Aretha thundered down the stairs. Aretha went into the front room, but Darren paused. Who is it? he mouthed.

Redmond Delaney, she mouthed back.

Oh, mouthed Darren. He threw Chris a flirty smile and followed after Aretha.

‘Just about,’ said Annie.

‘Well, good luck with it.’

‘Thank you, Mr Delaney.’

‘I’ll be in touch,’ said Redmond, and put the phone down.

Annie did the same.

‘Chris, what does Mr Delaney look like?’ she asked thoughtfully. ‘I’ve met his sister Orla. Is he like her?’

Chris laid his paper across his knees. ‘Identical,’ he said.

Annie had a think about that. A tall, red-haired, green-eyed man. Cool as could be. No small talk about him. Nothing like Kieron with all his blarney. Nothing like Pat either, Pat was a disgusting and frightening bruiser. Funny how one family could contain so many disparate elements.

‘What about the mum and dad?’

‘Molly and Dave?’ Chris took up his Sketch again. ‘Retired.’

No more information was forthcoming, so Annie decided to go up and get changed. Today she was the hostess, neat in a black shift, pearls and black-patent-leather pumps, nothing tarty. Nothing to suggest she was a player instead of an observer. Hopefully all their regulars would be here to have fun and spend money both on the door and upstairs in the bedrooms. Drinks on the house. Food on the house. It had to work, she thought. Or she was going to end up looking a right berk.

As she came downstairs the phone was ringing again. She waved Chris away and picked up.

‘Annie darling, will you sit for me tomorrow morning?’ asked Kieron.

‘No, Kieron, I can’t.’ There would be clearing-up to be done. She anticipated a lot of mighty hangovers among the staff too.

‘Afternoon?’ wheedled Kieron.

‘Is this the last time?’ groaned Annie.

‘Last one, I promise.’

She’d sat for him for the nude portrait three times now, lying there in the altogether feeling horribly self-conscious. She hated it. But if this really was the last time, she supposed she could bear it. And the pay was good. If the party idea bombed and no one showed up, she was going to need every penny. Dolly came clumping down the stairs in her dressing gown. Annie put a hand over the phone.

‘Dolly, will you sort yourself out?’ she asked, shooing her back up. ‘It’s nearly eleven, get clean, tidy and dressed.’

Dolly pulled a face. ‘Oh for fuck’s safe, what is it with you? There’s plenty of time yet,’ she said.

‘Dolly, what did I tell you? What did I say?’ asked Annie.

Dolly sighed. ‘You said …’

‘I said it’s my way or the fucking highway,’ said Annie. ‘Go and get ready.’

Dolly looked pissed off but she did as she was told. Annie was pleased at how Dolly was coming along, on the whole. Poor Dolly. Celia had been too easy on her, she needed a firmer hand, but Annie could appreciate why Celia had been so lenient. Celia had explained to Annie about Dolly’s background. Annie got the horrors every time she thought of how Dolly had been dragged up.

Poor cow, a backstreet abortion with an enema syringe and half a packet of Daz was enough to turn any woman sour. And to know that the dead child that came away was your father’s … it was nothing less than a nightmare. Celia had told her all about it.

Celia. God, she’d been so busy she’d hardly had a second to think about her, but she thought about her now, wondered where she was, wondered if she was okay. She’d been watching the post since Celia went, hoping for a letter, for even a fucking postcard, anything would be good. But there was nothing – no news, no contact. She thought of asking Redmond Delaney if he had a clue where her aunt had got to, but she knew she couldn’t do that. Her conversations with Redmond were always business, never personal. It was an unwritten rule.

Annie sighed and said to Kieron: ‘Tomorrow afternoon. Two o’clock until three, Kieron, I can’t spare more. See you.’

Ol’ Blue Eyes was booming out from the front room.

‘Not so loud,’ shouted Annie. Jesus! The neighbours!

‘Sorry,’ yelled Aretha and Darren as she joined them. She quickly tweaked down the volume and looked around the room. It looked good. She popped open a bottle of bubbly.

‘I’ve been putting the word round to my regulars,’ Darren was saying. He was looking very dapper in purple cords and a matching flowered shirt.

‘Mine too. God, hope we don’t get any more of those Golden Rainers showin’ up at the door,’ said Aretha. ‘I don’t mind kinky, but a girl has to have her limits.’

Annie handed them each a glass. Living at Celia’s place had quickly proved to her what an innocent she was. Now she knew that Golden Rainers were men who liked to be pissed on. The diversity of their clients’ sexual tastes was a constant source of amazement to her, but she was fast becoming unshockable.

‘To us,’ said Annie as Ellie and Dolly joined them. Everyone was done up to the nines; they all looked good, and they knew it. They raised their glasses. ‘And to the success of our parties.’

They clinked their glasses together as the doorbell rang. Annie tweaked up Frank and deftly removed the covers from the food. The ambience was good, with candles on the mantelpiece and soft side lights, and lovely comfy seats. She looked around and nodded with satisfaction.

‘First client,’ she said, as she heard Chris opening the door. There was a pause. Chris was taking the client’s coat and accepting payment. They drank and pasted smiles on their faces as the first punter came into the front room.

‘Hello,’ said Annie brightly, extending a hand to the gentleman, one of Ellie’s older regulars, and putting on her best posh voice. All right, she knew it wasn’t her. She had her roots and was never going to deny them. But this was business. The punters would expect a lady, and if that was what they wanted, that’s what they’d get. ‘How lovely to see you again. Come and sit down.’

The party was on.

Annie sat at the kitchen table next morning and reviewed the situation. She was not as unshockable as she’d thought. The party had gone with a swing, but it wasn’t a tea, dinner or bloody wine-and-cheese party with one of those new-fangled fondue sets at the centre of the table for dipping. It was a sex party, and the twenty-four gentlemen (she had anticipated twelve, tops) who had shown up had expected some pretty lively entertainment to be on offer.

Dolly had soon proved her worth. Dolly could take on three men without even drawing breath. And Aretha had quickly provided a large proportion of their public-school gents with what they craved, which was to be tied up, handcuffed, blindfolded and soundly thrashed while she wore a selection of open-crotch panties and cut-out bras. Darren had set to and serviced the gentlemen who craved male rather than female attentions, and Ellie with her gentle wheedling ways was a favourite with the older gents who might take just a little longer over their fun.

Throughout all this Annie had kept a straight face and dispensed drinks and food to keep the revellers nourished while they played. Chris, equally po-faced, had kept a discreet eye out for people getting too drunk or abusive, but everyone behaved themselves. Chris, Annie realized, was a wonderful visual deterrent to bad behaviour.

By four in the afternoon it was over. The place looked like a bomb had struck. All the workers were hung over and battle-weary. But then they had to set to and get it all cleaned up ready for the evening’s trade.

Now the dust had settled and Annie was counting out the proceeds on the kitchen table. She was coming to the conclusion that Celia had been a fool. She’d been sitting on a fucking gold-mine and hadn’t exploited the fact. Annie realized that she needed three or four more girls for the parties, and she needed a skilled barman too, how the hell was she to know what went into a Gin Sling? But these were minor problems, she thought as she counted out the loot. In all her time at Celia’s place, Annie had never seen money flooding in like this.

There was a knock at the back door. Annie jumped. She could see a shadowy figure out there through the frosted glass. A hat, the bulk of a man. Chris had heard it too. He came hurrying purposefully through from the hall.

‘It’s okay, Chris, it’s only Billy,’ Annie realized, scooping up fivers and tenners and quickly shoving them in the dresser drawer.

Chris let Billy in. Billy preferred the company of women, and he was uneasy around macho men like Chris. He looked nervously at the man-mountain.

‘Chris, this is Billy, a friend of ours – Billy, meet Chris, our new doorman,’ said Annie.

‘Hello Billy,’ said Chris. He looked annoyed. Annie knew that he had spent a lot of time over sharpening up security; it shouldn’t have been possible to even reach the back door. And he’d told Annie that she needed something solid there, not a door with glazing, but she liked the light it let into the kitchen. ‘How did you get round the back there?’

Billy looked awkward. ‘I climbed over the fence,’ he said.

Annie could see Chris making a mental note that involved higher fences and barbed wire. She suspected her nice frosted-glass door was soon to be bound for the tip. Billy had always used the back door, and in his mind that was the only door to use. Annie understood that, but Chris didn’t.

‘Use the front door in future, okay?’

Billy nodded and blushed.

‘Come and sit down and have a cup of tea with me,’ said Annie, putting the kettle on while Chris went back to his business. ‘How are you, Billy?’

‘I’m very well. Are you well, Miss Bailey?’

Although Billy thought of her as ‘his beautiful Annie’, he would never dream of addressing her by her first name. His mum had brought him up to respect ladies and to treat them properly. He sat down at the kitchen table, his briefcase on his lap. He removed his deerstalker. You didn’t keep your hat on when there was a lady present.

‘I’m fine. Keeping busy, you know. Biscuit?’

‘Thank you.’ Billy paused. He wasn’t sure whether he should say it, maybe Max wouldn’t like everyone knowing his business. But Annie wasn’t everyone, Annie was a Bailey, and family was important. His mum had always hammered that home to him. ‘I came to tell you that Mrs Carter is back living with Mrs Bailey.’

Annie dropped the biscuit tin. She turned and stared at Billy. ‘Ruthie’s moved back in with Mum?’ she said.

‘I thought you would want to know.’ Billy looked at her anxiously. ‘I didn’t want to upset you.’

Annie snatched up the tin. ‘You haven’t upset me, Billy,’ she said. Flaming hell, did that mean that Ruthie and Max were over? Was this a permanent split?

Billy was afraid that he had upset Annie. Suddenly she looked distracted. He hoped not. He loved coming here and seeing her, they were so kind to him here. It had always been a nice warm place, a bit of a haven for him, even when Madam Celia had been here. When she had gone, Billy feared he would no longer be welcome, but his beautiful Annie seemed to have taken over where Celia left off.

Actually he wasn’t too clear about what they did here. He knew they paid protection to the Delaneys, just as places like this on Max’s patch paid protection to the Carters. That was just the way things were. But as to what they got up to, upstairs in their bedrooms, Billy wasn’t too sure about that. He had a feeling that they did dirty things. The same sort of things Mum had warned him about, the things that would make him go blind, she said – things that he sometimes did himself, much to his shame, but only ever alone in the privacy of his room.

And now here she was, chatting to him like she was interested in what he had to say! He was in heaven. When she’d upset Max – he didn’t know how but she had – he’d been afraid she would move right away, that he would lose her for ever. But here she was, talking to him. And then the phone rang, and Chris poked his head round the kitchen door.

‘It’s Kieron, Miss Bailey,’ said Chris.

‘Oh no,’ said Annie. ‘I’m late. I know I’m late. I’m coming, tell him.’

‘She’s coming,’ said Chris into the phone.

Annie ran out into the hall. ‘Kieron, I’ll be about half an hour,’ she said.

A pause. Billy listened.

‘Look, Kieron, you know I was reluctant to do this in the first place.’

Billy’s attention sharpened. Was this ‘Kieron’ making Annie do something she didn’t want to? His mind churned. Not something like they did in the bedrooms upstairs?

‘I said from the start, didn’t I, that I didn’t want to be lying there in my birthday suit for all to see? I don’t like it.’

Billy felt himself blush uncomfortably at what she was saying. What was this man doing to her, that she had to be naked? He thought he knew. His mum had told him about the birds and the bees and how only dirty people did things like that. His jaw clenched in anger. This wasn’t right, this man forcing Annie to do things against her will.

‘Okay, Kieron, half an hour,’ Annie said, and walked back into the kitchen only to find that Billy was gone. He’d only drunk half his tea. The back door was standing open and the rain was coming in. She closed it, paused for a moment to think again about what Billy had told her, then quickly got back to counting out yesterday’s takings. She had to scoot. It might only be Kieron, but you didn’t keep a Delaney waiting.