put some frigging ear plugs in. Making peace with that piece of bleeding scum is the coward’s way out. Next thing you know you’ll be painting yourself yellow and there’ll be three white feathers stuck on the fucking front door.’
He’d laughed at her then. Had loved the way her nose always curled up when she got on one, but she’d been right. Looking back he didn’t know what he’d been thinking to even contemplate making anything but war with the likes of Max Donaldson.
Years back, before Johnny was born, he and Max had been indirect business associates. Eventually though, Frankie had distanced himself from him when he’d seen the kind of business Max ran and the cruelty he dished out.
Standing back from Max hadn’t really caused the rift. What had started it all was Max owing him money from a big poker game and making him wait over six months for it. Even that though, Frankie knew he could’ve let it go. What he couldn’t let go was when Max had picked up one of the girls who worked in his club on Brewer Street.
Max had taken the girl to a hotel, roughing her up and putting the fear of God into her. Turning her from a hardened brass into a quivering wreck. Her face had been messed up and Frankie had taken her to one of the top docs in Harley Street to get her nose and jaw fixed. The girl hadn’t stayed in London, deciding to return home to her native Glasgow with a few grand given to her by Frankie.
Frankie had then put the word out for none of his associates or acquaintances to do business with Max again. That had been a lot of people. In essence, Frankie had put the glass ceiling on Max being able to go further in his business and making the money he wanted to, as well as reducing him to a man who people feared but no one respected.
Frankie had then wanted to leave the feud. He’d shown Max that in a way he understood; he’d had his punishment. But the feud had started to grow, leaving him with no control over it. Johnny and the Donaldson boys got into endless fights. Gypsy stoked the flames as if she was building a bonfire, and each time he came across Max the man wasn’t ever able to keep his mouth shut and walk away. Leaving Frankie with no other option but to put him in his place, like he’d done last night by throwing the drink over him in the casino.
Frankie sighed, putting his hand out to touch the top of his wife’s head gently. The one good thing to come out of being stabbed would be having Gypsy at home with him without excuses. There’d be no sloping off to the shops or to the bars to meet her cronies for a drink, no squeezing half an hour to herself. After all, she could hardly tell a man who’d just been stabbed that she needed to go and get her nails done. He hated to say it but perhaps Max Donaldson had done him a favour after all.
Gypsy touched Frankie’s hand in response. She’d had such a fright when Johnny had called. She’d thought the worst but hoped for the best. Thankfully she’d got the latter. And the more she thought about what had happened the more thankful she became. Now Frankie would be laid up for the next few weeks perhaps she’d get some of that longed for freedom quicker than she thought. She’d be able to go to the shops and go to the bars to meet the girls without him popping up from nowhere. She hated to say it but perhaps Max Donaldson had done her a favour after all. Smiling, she looked at Frankie who smiled back just as warmly.
Frankie’s phone rang, jarring them both out of their own thoughts and waking Johnny up from his cat nap. Gypsy picked it up in her most eloquent of tones.
‘Hello? Gypsy speaking.’
There was a pause and she rolled her eyes as she listened to the caller on the other end, then quickly passed the phone to Frankie. It was his sister. Gypsy watched as Frankie spoke loudly with a big grin on his face.
‘Lorna! Alright girl, how are tricks?’
Gypsy looked at Johnny who was dropping off to sleep again and pulled a face. She got up to go and find something to eat. She wasn’t interested in listening to her husband’s conversation with Lorna.
She didn’t like Frankie’s sister. She was a loud-mouthed meddling bitch who thought she was Lady bleeding Muck because Frankie had a few bob. Before she’d met Lorna, Gypsy had been looking forward to meeting her, wanting to take her shopping and to hear about what her husband had been like as a child, but within an hour of picking her up from the airport she’d hated every bone in the woman’s body. From the moment Lorna landed from Belgium, she seemed intent of trying to cause a rift. Instead of being pleased that her brother was happily married to Gypsy, she wanted to cause problems. Bad mouthing her to Frankie behind her back and making constant snide comments. Not only had it irritated her, it’d hurt because all she’d ever wanted was to be friends.
It’d taken some hard negotiation but Frankie had managed to persuade Lorna to get back on a plane to Belgium one week later. She’d kicked up a fuss, wanting to stay another two weeks but they’d waved her off, all breathing a sigh of relief to see the British Airways logo speeding past them on the runway.
That’d been fifteen years ago and Gypsy hadn’t seen her since. Apart from occasionally picking up the phone to her, Gypsy had hardly spoken to her either.
Lorna’s occupation when she’d lived in London was as a small-time fraudster. Gypsy knew the police had wanted to question her on a number of chequebook scams; apparently one of the reasons she’d run off to Belgium. Her scams hadn’t been on any grand scale, though according to Frankie she’d done a couple of short stretches inside.
This was one of the reason’s Gypsy had been saved from any more of Lorna’s visits. Lorna couldn’t just jump on a plane. She was wanted but had no intention of serving any more time and unless Frankie provided her with a false passport to travel on she was stuck in Belgium.
Gypsy had managed to persuade Frankie not to sort one out, but it was getting harder and harder to do so. Frankie was a good man by nature, so the idea of his sister pining for the streets of London hurt Frankie, to the point of restless nights.
Twenty minutes later Gypsy found her way back to the cubicle. Plonking herself back on the chair next to Frankie her cockney twang was clear to her.
‘Well, what did the old witch want? It’s unlike her to call on a Tuesday; thought she’d be busy flying about on her bleeding broomstick.’
Frankie scowled at Gypsy. Lorna was a witch, a great big interfering one, but she was also his sister. Whatever trouble she had or hadn’t tried to cause between him and Gypsy the last time, she’d proved her loyalty to him by the weekly phone calls, the sending of the birthday and Christmas cards and her constant – yet turned down – offers of her coming to pay them a visit.
She was family – and family meant something. Not something, everything, so it didn’t feel right Gypsy bad-mouthing her. He’d always felt bad about the way he’d packed her off when she’d come to stay. But if he was honest he’d also been mightily relieved. The bickering between Lorna and Gypsy had done his nut in. If it hadn’t been for the company of Johnny, he’d have booked himself into a hotel.
Even though he’d sent her back to Belgium, he’d always shown Lorna respect, and wife or not, Gypsy needed to do the same. If she couldn’t, then the least she could do was keep her frigging cake hole shut.
‘Don’t say that Gypsy, she’s my sister.’
‘Yes, more’s the fucking pity.’
‘Oh so much for the soft-spoken lady. You’d put the blokes down Smithfield to shame.’
‘You know how she takes me, Frank.’
‘Is
