‘I’m not taking fucking orders off you,’ she told Annie.
Annie felt bereft. She’d become so close to Celia, and her presence was going to be sorely missed. But she couldn’t blame her for putting some distance between herself and the Carters. Eddie sounded really bad, and what if the worst – God forbid – happened? Celia would be up shit creek, no doubt about it. Celia had done the wise thing. But Annie was going to miss her like a limb.
Annie took a deep, calming breath. All right, so Celia was gone and God knew for how long. But she owed her everything, and it was up to her to make sure that Celia could return to a going concern, not a washout.
‘You don’t have to take orders from me,’ said Annie.
Dolly looked at her. ‘I should bloody-well think not,’ she huffed.
‘You can fuck off out of here right now, if you want to.’
Dolly’s rosebud mouth fell open. Darren, Aretha and Ellie sat rigid with shock.
‘You what?’
Dolly stood up, knocking her chair over with a clatter.
‘Are you deaf as well as stupid?’ asked Annie, giving her a hard stare. ‘Celia’s put me in charge and I’m going to do the right thing by her. If that means losing your services, fair enough. Bugger off then. If you want to stay, you can put the kettle on and fucking-well button it, okay?’
Ellie would always squeal. Annie knew it. So she wasn’t surprised when Pat Delaney called in person a few days later. Ellie was the Delaneys’ inside source, she knew it. She handed him the usual wad, and he pocketed it thoughtfully.
‘I hear there’s been trouble,’ he said, making himself comfortable at the table.
Annie nodded coolly. As powerfully as she had taken to Kieron on first sight, his older brother Pat repulsed her. He had a big leery face and was busy looking her over, but he was a Delaney. Although she didn’t want to, she had to give him some respect. Of course the Delaneys were supposed to make sure there was no trouble, although you wouldn’t know it judging by what had happened to Eddie and Darren.
‘There has,’ she agreed, sitting down opposite so he’d take his eyes off her legs for a minute. Darren and Ellie and Dolly were upstairs; Aretha was out. I’m in charge here now, she thought, and tried to remember it.
‘A client was attacked here,’ said Annie.
‘That’s a shame,’ said Pat, obviously not meaning it.
‘Yeah, it is,’ agreed Annie. ‘He was an important one.’
‘I heard that shirt-lifter Carter got slit,’ said Pat with a grin.
‘Celia didn’t want any trouble with the Carters. Neither do I, and she left me in charge.’
‘And you are …?’
‘I’m Annie Bailey, Celia’s niece.’ Annie pushed Celia’s letter across the table to him. Her heart was thumping and her mouth was dry, but she kept up the cool front.
Pat read the note then looked up. ‘You think you can run this place?’ he asked, and his eyes said he found this funny.
‘I know I can. I’ve learned the ropes from Celia.’
‘I could put a manager in,’ said Pat.
‘Celia didn’t want that. She wanted me to take over.’
Pat eyed the girl carefully. Annie was a real beauty. And he was in a position of power here.
‘And you want to do that?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ She didn’t want to. But she owed Celia big-time. Okay, she hadn’t seen herself running a knocking shop, but if that’s what she had to do, then fuck it, she’d do it.
‘Well, I don’t know if you’ll be suitable,’ said Pat with a smile. ‘So shut the door and come and give me a nice blow job, and I’ll consider it.’
Annie’s heart nearly stopped in her chest. She’d been afraid of this. But she kept her voice steady and her gaze direct. ‘I’m not a working girl, Mr Delaney. Like my Aunt Celia I run the show, I don’t perform in it.’
They locked eyes.
‘Ellie or Dolly would be pleased to oblige. On the house, of course.’
Pat smiled and stood up. ‘No thanks, girly. I wouldn’t touch any of the scuzzy old whores in this cathouse. We’ll leave it at that for now. But if you fuck up, watch out.’
‘Understood,’ said Annie, feeling nauseous as he passed her chair and left the room. She didn’t relax until she heard the front door close behind him. Then she slumped on to the table, head in hands.
‘How is he?’ asked Max from the shadows as Ruthie came out of Eddie’s room, pulling the door gently closed behind her.
Ruthie put a hand to her chest. ‘Not good,’ she said. Funny how her husband always made her jump. They should be easy with each other, like any other married couple, but they tiptoed around one another like strangers. Eight months they’d been married, and they barely knew each other.
Max stepped forward so that she could see his face.
‘The nurse is just changing the dressings,’ she told him.
‘He’s had the best care,’ said Max.
‘I don’t know. I think he should be in hospital.’ Ruthie looked at Max. She knew Max had pet doctors, the very best, who owed him or were afraid of him. So Eddie had received the best possible care. But his condition didn’t seem to be improving. His wounds hadn’t healed. The nurse and now the doctors were looking nervous and talking about possible blood poisoning. The knife could have been dirty, but then Eddie had been stabbed in the dirtiest possible place. Faecal matter could have added to the risk of infection, that was what the doctors had told them, looking at her with nervous eyes. She’d shaken their hands, wet with fear of what would happen if they failed to get Eddie Carter well again.
‘He’s staying here, at home,’ said Max.
‘Max …’
‘I don’t want to hear any more about it.’
‘He’s unconscious. Feverish.’
‘That’ll pass. He’s a tough little bastard.’
‘I hope so.’
‘For fuck’s sake, go and pour us both a brandy, will you?’ Max was irritated with her. She’d lost what little looks she’d had. She was skinny, her hipbones stuck out and her tits were gone. Her hair looked like straw. Her face was thin, like she’d been sucking bloody lemons. Her clothes had cost him a fortune,
