Maps of Hell

‘I wonder you bothered to show up,’ said Pat when it was over and they had moved away from the grave.

Kieron looked at Pat. There had always been a sting of animosity between them. Kieron thought Pat a stupid bully, and Pat thought Kieron a fairy. The two were never going to happily co-exist, so Kieron had been glad to get away from home and see the back of his thuggish older brother. But it was clear to see that nothing had changed between them despite time and distance.

A few years back, Kieron would have flown at Pat in a rage. Today, he merely smiled.

‘I’m here, aren’t I?’

‘Brought your sketch pad, did you?’ Pat sneered.

‘Padraig!’ said Molly sharply, coming up to them and touching Kieron’s arm.

‘It isn’t a crime to have a talent,’ said Kieron.

‘It’s a gift from God,’ said Molly, patting his arm. She looked back towards the grave where Davey her husband was still standing, supported by Redmond. ‘This is going to kill your father,’ she predicted with a tremble in her voice.

‘No it isn’t, Mum,’ said Orla, hurrying over and embracing her mother. ‘Dad’s a tough nut.’

A year away had given Kieron a new perspective. His sister Orla was a lovely young woman now, no more the freckly girl. Her red hair was long and sleek, and her green eyes were gorgeous. She was tall and slender, like Redmond her twin, and the black of mourning flattered her pale skin.

‘Tory was a tough nut too,’ said Molly. ‘And now look.’

The priest was striding back towards the vestry for his tea and biscuits. The crowds were dispersing and there were many sad faces.

Things would change now.

If Tory was no more, then who would take over the manor? The Carters were chipping away at them day by day. It would be down to Redmond, the eldest, to take over the firm, but for now no one could face that prospect. Everyone on the manor had respected Tory Delaney and they were all sick at heart to see him gone. The streets had been lined with bare bowed heads when the cortège drove through to go to the church. No one would be celebrating on the manor tonight.

Davey and Redmond joined the rest of the family.

‘I want to know who did this,’ said Redmond. Unlike big golden Tory, Redmond’s hair suited his name. It was red like his mother’s had once been, long ago. He had green eyes and pale lashes. He did not appear a man of action, but he looked sleek and elegant in his black coat and leather gloves.

Redmond hadn’t got into boxing like Tory and Pat, like their dad before them. Accountancy was his game, adding up figures and doing deals, and he was good at it, Pat had to admit that. Pat looked at his effete older brother and wondered if Redmond could ever hope to fill Tory’s shoes.

And then Pat wondered, not for the first time, if he could do the job better. Jaysus, he knew full well that he could.

‘We’ll find out who did it,’ said Pat.

The police seemed clueless about the shooting, or at least took pains to appear so. It was how the Bill always reacted to gang business. All the boys knew that the police’s attitude to a feud in the East End was, fair enough, so one of them’s dead, so what? Cut down the numbers a bit, that’s a good thing.

And there were plenty of coppers in the pay of the other major gangs, everyone knew that. Sometimes a blind eye was turned because the payment had been right. A fortnight on the Costas, a cash sum, all helped to obscure the vision of the boys in blue. That was just the way it was. You couldn’t rely on the police to do your work for you.

All this week the papers had been full of the news of this alleged ‘gangland killing’.

The public were enthralled.

The police didn’t give a fuck.

‘Let’s get home,’ said Molly from behind her veil. ‘I’m sick of this day. Kieron, you can show me all these paintings you’ve been doing and tell me all about your travels. Cheer me up a bit.’

Kieron nodded. Padraig looked at him daggers, but Orla was smiling at him. His big sis had often saved him from a beating from the pugnacious Pat. Kieron looked at Redmond, but those strange green eyes gave nothing away at all. Not grief. Not elation. If Tory had been hot-headed, Redmond was unfailingly controlled.

No, cold was more the word, thought Kieron, suppressing a shudder. Cold as fucking ice. That was Redmond.

8 (#u32b84b9c-0be0-5914-83e0-92552a530974)

The minute Annie got home from work, she knew something was wrong. Connie was sitting at the kitchen table alone, chain-smoking, an ashtray brimming with stubs in front of her. When Annie came into the kitchen Connie jumped to her feet and gave her youngest daughter a heavy slap around the face.

‘What the hell was that for?’ asked Annie, holding a hand to her stinging cheek and watching her mother as if she might go for the carving knife next. Annie’s eyes were watering with pain.

Connie waved her fag in Annie’s face, ash spilling down her tightly belted trench coat. Fucking English weather, she was tired and drenched through and now this.

‘You know what it’s for, you little slag,’ she yelled.

Annie was about to open her mouth to speak when she saw a suitcase at the foot of the stairs through the open hall door.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked, her heart racing.

‘What’s going on?’ sneered Connie. ‘What’s going on? Christ, you’ve got some front, I’ll say that for you.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Annie, beginning to shake with the shock of her mother’s attack.

‘Oh you don’t?’ Connie took a deep drag, sucked the nicotine right back into her lungs. Christ, if Connie Bailey lasted until fifty Annie would be amazed. She was used to her mother’s bad temper, and it was even worse since golden-girl Ruthie had got married and flown the nest. It wouldn’t be too long before Connie got herself invited to stay at Max’s posh place in Surrey. Annie knew her mother, she knew that this would be Connie’s master plan. She’d take Queenie’s place at Max’s table, and lord it over all she surveyed. As for Annie, she would have to piss off and fend for herself. If she had Ruthie near at hand, Connie would certainly not want Annie.

‘Then why is it I’ve had poor Ruthie in tears to me on the telephone, telling me all about you, you dirty little whore, and her new husband?’

Annie recoiled as if Connie had struck her again. Her words were a total shock. Annie had never imagined that Ruthie would be so stupid as to tell anyone that she knew Max and Annie had been together. She felt her belly start to crawl with dread.

‘Oh that,’ she said, deliberately casual. ‘We had a little fling, that was all. And Ruthie found out. But it was nothing. Just a fling.’

‘A fling? Ruthie’s in tatters down there, you selfish little tart,’ roared Connie, her face inches from Annie’s. Annie shut her eyes. Connie’s breath was foul from all the fags, and flecks of saliva spattered Annie’s face with the force of her mother’s shrieking.

‘What the hell were you thinking of?’ demanded Connie. ‘We’re talking about your sister’s intended. You should have had the decency to leave him alone, not go spreading your legs for him at the first opportunity.’

Annie opened her eyes. Something snapped inside her head. ‘I saw him first,’ she said flatly. ‘He should have married me, not her.’

Connie threw back her raddled head and howled with croaky smokers’ laughter. ‘You?’ she mocked. ‘He didn’t have to marry you to get what he wanted, did he, you bloody little fool. Trust me, no bloke would want to put a wedding band on your finger. You’ve got whore written all over you. Not like Ruthie. Ruthie’s a good girl.’

‘Yeah,’ flung back Annie, stung. ‘I bet the wedding night was a barrel of laughs. She’s as frigid as a fucking nun and we both know it. That won’t keep a man like Max happy for long, trust me.’

Connie flung her fag down on to the scratched lino and stamped it out with a gesture of finality.

‘I want you out of here right now,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘OUT!’ yelled Connie. ‘O. U. T. Out. Out that bloody door. Your stuff’s all packed, pick up your bag and clear off. I’ve had enough of your tarting about. And doing this to your own sister? It’s the final fucking straw, and I’ve had enough.’

Annie started to speak, but Connie grabbed her with surprising force and pushed her out into the hall. Connie flung open the front door while Annie stood there in a state of shock. Connie snatched up the suitcase and flung it out on to the pavement. She grabbed Annie’s arm and hustled her out after it. Annie found herself out on the pavement in the drizzling rain. People were passing, and they looked curious but carried on by.