The Annie Carter Series Books 1–4

‘But Dad doted on him. Tory was his firstborn, his favourite. Do you have any idea what it did to him, losing Tory? It drove him mad, Kieron. It drove him mad with grief! Our dad’s an empty shell, he’s nothing now. An old man with a wandering mind. And you stand there smiling like someone waiting to get a prize? Shame on you!’

‘But you hated him …’ repeated Kieron blankly. He couldn’t understand her reaction, he couldn’t take any of this in. She was supposed to be pleased.

‘Of course I did.’ Orla was hissing into his face, spittle flying with every word she uttered. ‘What do you think I am, a fool? I know what he did to us. I know he ruined us both. I can’t look at men. I can’t contemplate marriage, or sex, or babies. It gives me the heaves every time it crosses my mind. Because of what my own brother did to me. How do you think that feels, Kieron?’

‘And that’s why I did it,’ said Kieron desperately. ‘Because I knew, and because I couldn’t let him get away with it.’

Orla took a quivering breath and regained a measure of calm. She stared at him as if at a stranger.

‘You killed him,’ she said.

She’d thought of just about everyone, but never Kieron. She had suspected the Mafia – the Americans, particularly the Barolli family, were strong in the West End and Tory had been openly resentful about their presence here and about their business links with the Carters. And the Carters. Of course the Carters. Hot-headed Jonjo or cool, controlled Max. Either one. Someone had set out to kill Queenie Carter, and that had been a step too far. No one would have blamed them for wreaking revenge.

‘I did it for you,’ said Kieron urgently. ‘For you and Redmond. You must have wanted to do it yourselves. You must have.’

‘Of course we did,’ spat Orla.

Every day of her life she remembered it, every night she dreamed of it; a flare of faint light from the landing. The bedroom door opening, then closing softly. Someone moving inside the dark room, inside her and Redmond’s room. Someone was coming to her bed.

Even now she felt the familiar hopeless terror, the awful tightness in her chest. Someone was sitting down on the edge of her bed, but she mustn’t scream or tell, she mustn’t cry out because she would never be believed, Tory had always told them that. Her tears were silent, like her fear. And then the covers moved, and the nightmare became unspeakable.

‘Of course we wanted to kill him,’ she said, dragging in a breath to steady herself. ‘But we never would. He meant too much to Dad. When Dad was gone, then we would have made our move. Not before.’

‘He was a bastard and he deserved what he got,’ insisted Kieron, determined to justify himself. ‘He was cruel and sadistic. Messing with his own brother and sister. And he called me a pansy because I painted. Both Tory and Pat despised me because I was an artist, not a proper part of the firm like they were. Well I showed him. I’m not a fucking pansy, I’m not as soft as you all think I am.’

Orla was still giving him that odd look, as if she had never seen him before. ‘You didn’t have any part in the killing of Pat too, did you?’ she asked.

‘No. But you know what?’

‘What?’

‘I wish I had.’

Orla stared at him. Her sensitive, artistic little brother. The misfit in a family of gangsters. Maybe not so much a misfit after all. The thought troubled her. Blood ran deep, she thought. Deeper than she had ever thought possible.

‘You did it for us,’ she said at last. ‘You meant to do good.’

‘Of course I did,’ said Kieron.

He’s like a puppy, she thought. Bringing you your shoe although he’s chewed it beyond redemption. Trying to please. Creating havoc but only for the best of reasons. God help him.

God help them all.

58 (#ulink_c56f151a-2b12-5749-96ce-c61021cc69f9)

Annie went to dinner on Saturday at Redmond’s and Orla’s house and got a nasty shock when she found Kieron there too. There was a brooding atmosphere between the brothers and sister. There’d definitely been a family row. Annie was a connoisseur of family rows.

‘What did you think of the cheese soufflé?’ asked Orla, making polite conversation while Kieron and Redmond looked daggers at each other.

‘It was great,’ said Annie, although with the court case looming she was a bit off her food. With Kieron making cow-eyes at her from across the table, she felt even less inclined to eat.

‘And the lamb?’

‘Superb.’

There was a silent middle-aged woman serving them, and Annie guessed she was probably their housekeeper and had been elected chef for the night. Now she was bringing in small pots of chocolate mousse. Redmond waited until the woman had left the room before he said, ‘You’re looking thin, Miss Bailey.’

‘Am I?’ Annie was startled. Redmond didn’t usually get personal.

‘Yes, I thought that,’ chipped in Kieron. ‘You are looking thin, Annie.’

For fuck’s sake. Talk about Little Sir Echo. Annie felt a pang of utter loathing. She had tried so hard to get shot of Kieron, yet here they were again, him taking an interest in the state of her, her wishing he’d back off.

She couldn’t forget how repulsive it had felt when he kissed her and she didn’t want him thinking he could try anything like that again. When was the stupid bastard going to take no for an answer? When Max finally snapped and killed him stone-dead?

Probably Redmond and Orla had engineered this evening with the best of intentions, but she wished they’d let her know Kieron was going to be here. Because then she wouldn’t have been.

Weeks had gone by since the police raid, and Annie had stayed at the Limehouse parlour with her friends. A sort of fatalism had settled over her. All right, she was going down. Fair enough. It had given her a certain clarity of mind. She now strongly felt that there were people in her life who shouldn’t be there, and people who weren’t in her life whose company she would appreciate.

She knew it was finished with Ruthie. There’d been no word from her, although Kath must have told her what had gone on. Even if Kath hadn’t told her, it was splashed all over the bloody papers. Difficult to miss. So Ruthie clearly didn’t give a toss what happened to her sister. Fair play to her – Annie didn’t blame her. It was almost a relief to have all that over with, she thought. Now she’d get the court case done with, do the time, and then start again. Preferably somewhere else. Somewhere new.

She thought of Max. No good doing that. Give poor bloody Ruthie a chance now. Do the right thing for once in your life.

‘Well, this is a nice meal,’ she said brightly for Orla’s sake, spooning up the mousse although her appetite was gone. ‘The condemned woman ate heartily,’ she quipped.

‘Ah, don’t say that,’ said Kieron. ‘You’ll get off, never fear.’

‘I don’t think anything is to be gained by giving Miss Bailey false hope,’ said Redmond. ‘A sentence seems inevitable.’

‘You’re famous, Annie,’ said Orla, trying to make light of it all. ‘In the papers and all.’

‘More like notorious,’ said Annie.

‘Surely it won’t be a long stretch,’ said Orla.

‘Maybe two years.’

The thought made her blood freeze. Sure, everyone was rallying round, trying to cheer her up, but the prospect of prison was daunting. Aretha, who had done time in her youth for some unnamed crime, had told her to be careful.

‘You watch out for they bull dykes in there, girl,’ she’d said. ‘You find yourself a nice friend and keep close. No wanderin’ off alone, an’ keep out of Ambush Alley.’

‘Ambush Alley?’ Annie had echoed.

‘The showers, silly. They hang about in there, lookin’ for fresh young flesh.’

‘Do you think you’ll get time off for good behaviour?’ said Redmond.

Annie nodded. ‘And I’ll appeal.’