love! If she knew anything about it, it wasn’t love that was keeping Cain Moran in the picture, it was her daughter’s obvious attractions. Not that she would say that to her Jenny, of course; she was still living in cloud cuckoo land, where the fairies sang sweetly and men left their wives and children for young girls.
‘If you really care you will do as he asks, love. You have your whole life in front of you.’
Jenny made herself a coffee and took it to her bedroom. She sat in front of her makeshift dressing table and looked at her reflection in the old mirror. She missed Cain with a vengeance; she physically ached with sorrow at not seeing him. Every day she got up and went to work in that stupid office that didn’t really need a secretary, then she came home, ate her tea and waited by the phone all night in case he called. It wasn’t a life, it was just an existence.
But if this is what it took to have a few hours with Cain, then she knew she would accept that. She would be seventeen in one week. She hoped she would see him on her birthday. That was all she wanted − just to see him, even if only for an hour. As wrong as it was to want him − a married man with a little boy − she couldn’t help herself. Young Jenny had discovered not only love, but also the powerful emotion of lust. She yearned for Cain Moran with her entire being.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Micky Two Fags was not about to give in to the inevitable without a fight. His club in Southend was his pride and joy, and there was no way he was giving it up without at least a show of defiance. He had bought the premises in 1974. It had been a rundown shithole, but after nearly six years of hard graft it was finally a success.
He had thought long and hard about what options were open to him and he had come up with only one: he had to enlist other club owners before the same thing happened to them. His was the biggest in terms of money and prestige, so he needed to see to the next one on the list and that was owned by a man called Jimmy Banks, otherwise known as Jimmy Boy.
Jimmy was a headcase and that was exactly what was needed to go up against someone like Cain Moran. Word on the street was that Jimmy Boy Banks had taken out an Iranian drug dealer single-handedly. Jimmy Boy dealt in skag which was now a very lucrative business for clubs. You couldn’t move nowadays for stoners. It was pathetic − Micky blamed the punk rock movements and hippie parents. He wouldn’t tolerate it on his premises – it was too dangerous. The last thing anyone needed was a dead kid in the toilets on a busy Saturday night. No, that business was for the pubs, the shittier pubs anyway. It was a mug’s game as far as he was concerned − for the dealers and the junkies. He did a great business with the softer recreational drugs, and now that cunt Cain Moran wanted to just walk in and take it from him. Fucking scandalous, that’s what it was, and he would fight him as best he could.
The trouble was, Cain Moran was a man to be reckoned with; nothing moved in the South East without his express say-so. He had Filth, judges and local politicians on his payroll, so he had plenty of clout. No one could take that away from him and he was to be applauded for his acumen. But this . . . this was a step too fucking far, and Micky instinctively knew he wouldn’t be the only one thinking along those lines. This was an out-and-out piss-take.
As Jimmy Boy Banks walked into his office Micky Platt felt that in his darkest moment there was still a glimmer of hope.
Chapter Twenty-Four
‘Listen to me, Cain Moran, I am your fucking wife . Remember the vows we made in front of the priest? Well, I took them seriously even if you didn’t, you filthy rotten slag.’
Cain rolled his eyes at the ceiling. ‘Always with the drama, aren’t you, Caroline? Can’t have a row, it’s got to be a knock-down, all-out fight. Then you wonder why I play away. It’s nice sometimes not to have to
‘If you really care you will do as he asks, love. You have your whole life in front of you.’
Jenny made herself a coffee and took it to her bedroom. She sat in front of her makeshift dressing table and looked at her reflection in the old mirror. She missed Cain with a vengeance; she physically ached with sorrow at not seeing him. Every day she got up and went to work in that stupid office that didn’t really need a secretary, then she came home, ate her tea and waited by the phone all night in case he called. It wasn’t a life, it was just an existence.
But if this is what it took to have a few hours with Cain, then she knew she would accept that. She would be seventeen in one week. She hoped she would see him on her birthday. That was all she wanted − just to see him, even if only for an hour. As wrong as it was to want him − a married man with a little boy − she couldn’t help herself. Young Jenny had discovered not only love, but also the powerful emotion of lust. She yearned for Cain Moran with her entire being.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Micky Two Fags was not about to give in to the inevitable without a fight. His club in Southend was his pride and joy, and there was no way he was giving it up without at least a show of defiance. He had bought the premises in 1974. It had been a rundown shithole, but after nearly six years of hard graft it was finally a success.
He had thought long and hard about what options were open to him and he had come up with only one: he had to enlist other club owners before the same thing happened to them. His was the biggest in terms of money and prestige, so he needed to see to the next one on the list and that was owned by a man called Jimmy Banks, otherwise known as Jimmy Boy.
Jimmy was a headcase and that was exactly what was needed to go up against someone like Cain Moran. Word on the street was that Jimmy Boy Banks had taken out an Iranian drug dealer single-handedly. Jimmy Boy dealt in skag which was now a very lucrative business for clubs. You couldn’t move nowadays for stoners. It was pathetic − Micky blamed the punk rock movements and hippie parents. He wouldn’t tolerate it on his premises – it was too dangerous. The last thing anyone needed was a dead kid in the toilets on a busy Saturday night. No, that business was for the pubs, the shittier pubs anyway. It was a mug’s game as far as he was concerned − for the dealers and the junkies. He did a great business with the softer recreational drugs, and now that cunt Cain Moran wanted to just walk in and take it from him. Fucking scandalous, that’s what it was, and he would fight him as best he could.
The trouble was, Cain Moran was a man to be reckoned with; nothing moved in the South East without his express say-so. He had Filth, judges and local politicians on his payroll, so he had plenty of clout. No one could take that away from him and he was to be applauded for his acumen. But this . . . this was a step too fucking far, and Micky instinctively knew he wouldn’t be the only one thinking along those lines. This was an out-and-out piss-take.
As Jimmy Boy Banks walked into his office Micky Platt felt that in his darkest moment there was still a glimmer of hope.
Chapter Twenty-Four
‘Listen to me, Cain Moran, I am your fucking wife . Remember the vows we made in front of the priest? Well, I took them seriously even if you didn’t, you filthy rotten slag.’
Cain rolled his eyes at the ceiling. ‘Always with the drama, aren’t you, Caroline? Can’t have a row, it’s got to be a knock-down, all-out fight. Then you wonder why I play away. It’s nice sometimes not to have to
Similar Books
