Faces by Martina Cole

Danny she was really afraid for, she knew he was likely to be the one targeted. She also knew that was exactly what he hoped would happen. He had taken to dressing like a thug, suited and booted now, he was earning a few quid, though determined not to pay his father’s debts for him, and assuming the role of head male in the household. A role Angelica was happy for him to fulfil, even though she knew it was wrong; that he was a child when all was said and done. But he was also the only thing keeping them from penury and the pavement. He had even paid off the back rent, and obtained items of furniture she had only dreamed of possessing. He was a good lad, a kind brother and son, and now she knew he was also a very capable boy. Big Dan Cadogan had left a void in their lives, and this youngster was trying to fill it, trying to take the onus off her and his siblings. Christ himself knew it was a hard road for him, and a harder road for her, his mother, because she was witness to it all, and she took whatever he managed to give her.
    Her Danny Boy, her first-born son, the love of her life, had skipped adolescence and commenced straight to adulthood. He had taken to walking home through the back roads, knowing that he would be an easy mark for anyone who wished to pick him up in a car, or savage him on the quiet. He wanted the reprisal over and done with so they could get on with their lives.
    The violence of her own part in the Murrays’ attack had shocked her. A fighter all her life, she had never before used a weapon; she had never had to. Her children’s safety had brought that part of her fighting spirit to the fore. She knew in her heart though that the Murrays would not, indeed could not, come back at her over it. That would not be tolerated, in fact, if she ever even got mugged, the finger of blame would be pointed firmly in their direction. They knew that as well as she did. Even their own mother, a heavy-set Yugoslavian woman with pink cheeks and a wrinkled neck, had voiced her displeasure over her sons’ actions. Mothers were out of bounds, as were kids, and it had taken her family’s trials and tribulations to get that point across to the Murrays. But, like her son, she would be relieved when the Murrays finally made a move; at least then they could get on with their lives.
     
    Danny was taking his tea break with Louie and, as they sat side by side on an old crate, they were both aware of the easy camaraderie that had developed between them. Danny was grateful to his employer for standing beside him, for making him feel there was at least a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. He knew Louie was watching his back and, since no one had ever done that for him in his short life, the gratitude he felt was pitiful.
    The breakers’ yard now had a tidiness that was only apparent to those who actually worked there. Over the last two months Danny had systematically sorted through pile after pile of scrap metal, separating the copper, lead and iron into piles of their own. The cars, their main source of income, were everywhere, and the crushed remains of them were piled up like a huge metal wall. Once the carcasses were stripped of parts they were useless, and therefore disposed of quickly and cleanly in the huge crushing machine that Danny could now operate in his sleep.
    When the totters came in these days their scrap was easily disposed of and placed on to the appropriate pile, and anyone who wanted car parts was now able to go straight to whatever they wanted without half a day’s search. Louie was thrilled with what the boy had achieved. Even though the yard was really a blind for his other businesses, he was pleased at how much more efficient the place was now, thanks to this young lad’s hard graft. He had also taught the boy how to barter the totters for their scrap, and Danny had turned out to be a real natural. He had a feel for the place, knew instinctively what was worthless and what would make a few