and catching each other’s eyes as they realised they’d forgotten about the bewildered punter who still lay curled up on the floor.
Hurrying over and grabbing her grey silk robe to cover herself, Bunny bent down, helping the man sit up. She spoke with genuine warmth and concern. ‘Are you okay? I am so sorry Peter, and so is my friend. Actually darlin’, he’s that sorry, he wants to apologise.’ Bunny turned to Del, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief. ‘Don’t you?’
Del looked down, wanting to avoid Bunny’s eyes and definitely wanting to avoid having to apologise to some toffee-nosed geezer, who no doubt had a blissfully unaware missus and children waiting at home for him. But then, who was he to talk?
Continuing to avoid Bunny’s eyes, Del thought about his wife, Edith. Spoilt, overweight and luxuriating in Marbella with a sour look on her face. He’d met her through a friend when she was barely twenty and she’d clung onto him like a leech, refusing to disappear when he tried to give her the elbow, until eventually he’d given up and she’d just become part of the furniture, placing her feet firmly under the table.
When he looked back on it, he couldn’t even say she’d really been any different. Maybe not overweight, but the spoilt, sour expressions and the demanding ungrateful personality had always been there. Even when he’d lifted up her veil on their wedding day, instead of a smiling bride it was a pursed-lipped, angry woman who was never satisfied with anything he did. His friends had often asked him why he’d married Edith and his reply was always the same. Fuck knows.
He’d lost count of how many years he’d been married, like he’d lost count of how many years it’d been since he’d been able to look into Edith’s eyes and feel anything but disgust and loathing for her. He’d tried not to. He really had. But however hard he tried, it didn’t make one bit of difference.
He’d built his drugs and money laundering empire, working his ass off to provide for Edith and make a name for himself but it’d kept him away from her, and when he had gone back home laden with presents and enthusiasm, all he’d got in return was a long face and complaints. So gradually his visits had become less and less, until they were virtually non-existent, though the presents had continued and the money. Edith had made sure of that – Fedexed to whichever luxury holiday destination she was at.
And then, one Christmas, lonely and tired, he’d decided to go home. Wanting to spend some quality time with her out in his luxury villa in Marbella. But the person who’d greeted him wasn’t his wife. She was a stranger. A greedy, selfish and ungrateful one – and in that moment he’d known he hated her.
He’d often laid in bed wondering why he hadn’t left Edith. He wanted to. God, did he just. But when it came down to it, he couldn’t.
Not leaving her was for one reason and one reason only. She could and would make his life very difficult indeed. She knew everything about him and everything about his businesses and when it boiled down to it, no matter how much money or how many houses he gave her he just couldn’t do the one thing that would’ve freed him from her. He just couldn’t trust his wife.
‘Well?’ Bunny’s voice broke into his thoughts. He stared at her incredulously. She was seriously expecting him, one of the biggest faces in the country and certainly one of the biggest faces in the Costa, to apologise to some skank? But then, he guessed, that was love for you. It melted the toughest of hard men, and from the first time he’d laid eyes on Bunny as she stood on the corner of Greek Street touting for business, he’d been hooked, lined and bleedin’ sinkered.
Winking at Bunny, Del Williams opened his mouth, not quite believing what he was doing as he began to apologise to the guy who’d been about to shag the only woman he’d ever loved in his life. The woman who completed him.
2
Teddy Davies put his head back and felt the burn of the coke up his nose and the bitter taste at the back of his mouth. It was good shit. Quiver, as he called it. Though it was almost the last of it, which meant he’d have to go back to the crap that was floating around Soho. Watered-down charlie with enough amphetamines in it to keep an elephant up all night.
He sighed as he tapped out the final line of the white powder on the top of the toilet cistern. Not a day had gone by in the past couple of years when he hadn’t taken any quiver, but then he didn’t actually need it. He only liked it.
Rolling up a twenty-pound note, Teddy Davies leant forward and hoovered up the cocaine expertly off the porcelain toilet top. He snorted hard, taking down the remnants of the quiver into his throat. As he closed his eyes, embracing the high, the cubicle door banged, making him jump. Angry at the broken sensation, Teddy snarled. ‘What the fuck’s wrong?’
‘Sorry boss, we’ve got to go.’
‘All right. All-fucking-right. I’m coming.’ Teddy shouted an irritated reply as he grabbed the empty wrap, disposing of it down the grimy stained toilet. He opened the cubicle door and studied the bald-headed man who was standing nervously waiting for him.
Teddy nodded his head in recognition, straightening his clothes and wiping his nose with the back of his hand. Taking out a comb from the inside of his jacket he looked in the cracked men’s room mirror, brushing his wavy brown hair back. Detective Constable Teddy Davies was ready for duty.
Crossing over Regent Street, Teddy ignored the scream of the taxi horn. He strolled across, smiling sardonically as he cut his eye at the cabbie who was angrily waving his arms and mouthing unheard swear words behind the muddied windscreen. If it’d been dark, he would’ve been happy to wave his badge to pull the taxi driver over before giving him a slap. Still, he could always take down his carriage number and cause some aggro for him.
Whistling and loosening his tie as he mentally remembered the cabbie’s number, Teddy turned off the heaving West End street, cutting through the back, quieter streets of Soho. Even though the quiver was wearing off he could still feel a buzz. But perhaps one more line wouldn’t harm.
Walking along the shady side of Beak Street and turning right into Great Windmill Street, Teddy noticed a few girls standing on the corner. They couldn’t have been older than sixteen, seventeen. Short skirts, tits pushed up to their chins and enough make-up to cover a football pitch. He didn’t recognise any of them but he didn’t have to guess very hard to know who they belonged to. He frowned, instantly knowing it was another new influx of Russian girls, which was the last thing he needed. There was already too many rumblings for him to deal with as it was.
The Russian pimps were difficult to deal with; they overcharged and ripped off their punters. Not to mention turning them over and leaving them half battered in alleyways, which lead to complaints at the station, bringing unwanted attention to the goings-on in Soho. The girls themselves were nearly as bad as their pimps. Hardened bitches, refusing to give pussy away for free.
Turning away and heading towards Old Compton Street, Teddy sighed. He’d have to deal with it later; find out what was going on. One thing he didn’t like was being ripped off and not getting what was due to him. It’d taken him a long time to get control of the one square mile of Soho, making sure the pimps, hookers and launderers were all in their place. It was his territory and no one, not even the ruthless Russian mafia, was going to come in and piss on it. After all, he was Teddy Davies and if anyone got in his way, he was going to make sure they never got in his way again.
Walking into the cool air of Whispers bar, Teddy waved to Alfie Jennings, the owner of the club and a well-respected face in Soho. Teddy had a lot of time for Alfie. He was old school
