Dangerous Lady by Martina Cole Page A

evening. What he had was a pampered, spoilt brat whose only interest in life was lipstick and what was on at the pictures. She never looked at the child unless she had to. Even his mother had noticed it. She had asked him a few Saturdays ago if everything was all right between them. He had felt like telling her everything but just couldn’t. He wouldn’t even know where to begin.
    ‘Hello, Bruv.’ Roy was brought out of his reverie by-Michael’s voice.
    ‘Hello, Mickey!’ He hadn’t been so pleased to see someone in all his life.
    ‘Fancy skiving off for a few hours? I’ve got a bit of business I want to talk to you about.’
    Roy wiped his bloody hands on his apron. ‘I’ll be with
     
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    you in a tick.’ He walked through to the back of the shop and called out to his father-in-law. James Grierson came down the stairs that led to the flat above the shop.
    ‘What’s all this row about?’ His voice was loud and agitated. ‘Can’t you even look after the bloody shop? Want me to hold your hand now, I suppose.’ Roy was conscious that Michael could hear every word and groaned inside.
    ‘I’ve got to shoot off for a couple of hours.’ ‘You what!’ Grierson’s voice was incredulous. ‘This is a bloody business here, not a bloody knocking shop where you pick your own hours …’
    His voice faltered as he saw Michael slip through the doorway. Grierson paled.
    ‘Who do you think you’re talking to?’ Michael’s voice was icy. He pointed at Grierson. ‘I’m talking to you. You had enough bunny just now … so answer me. Who d’you think you’re talking to?’
    As Michael stepped towards him, Grierson stepped backwards, his hands coming up to defend himself if the visitor lashed out.
    Michael snapped at Roy: ‘Get your coat.’ Then walking to where Grierson was cowering against the wall, he grabbed him around the throat. ‘Now, I don’t know what’s going down here, but I know this much - if you ever talk to my brother like that again, I’ll rip your nuts off and ram them down your throat. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
    Grierson was nodding his head furiously when Roy came back with his coat. Pulling Mickey away gently, he led him through the front of the shop and out into the street. He was ashamed that Michael had heard his father in-law speak to him like that. He was ashamed that he himself let him.
     
    ‘Come on, Roy, we’re going to the KPH. I think we’d better have a talk.’
    They walked in silence. The bright October day belied; the cold wind. Roy noticed that everywhere they walked people acknowledged Michael. It was as if he was their sovereign and they his subjects. Depending on how influential people were, Mickey either nodded at them or gave them a hearty greeting. Roy was impressed. Michael’s name was becoming synonymous with those of the Krays and the Richardsons, two of the most influential young gangs of that time. Roy knew that Michael kept up a friendship with them. An uneasy alliance. It seemed that once people met him they decided they were better off, having him as a friend than an enemy. They walked into the red warmth of the Kensington Park Hotel. Michael ordered them both hot whiskies and they settled down in the lounge bar.
    Michael took his cigarettes from his overcoat pocket, and then slipped the coat from his shoulders. Folding it up carefully, he laid it across a chair. All his movements were performed with a natural grace. Roy shrugged off his own coat while still sitting, letting it fall over the back of his chair. Adjusting his trouser crease fastidiously Michael sat down again, settling himself into the over-upholstered chair. Then, pulling a large white ashtray towards him so it would be within easy reach, he lit -a cigarette. Throwing the packet across the table at Roy, he finally spoke. ‘How long has he been talking to you like that?’ His voice was quiet.
    Roy hung his head. ‘I know it sounds bad, Mickey, but he is my father-in-law