The Faithless - Martina Cole [112]
‘Well, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Mum?’
Cynthia was fuming at the inference, and the fact that her daughter felt confident enough to say it spoke volumes. The news of Vincent’s return had given her girl an edge, an edge Cynthia would take great pleasure in blunting. She still had a few tricks up her sleeve.
Gabby smiled. ‘See you.’
Cynthia smiled back, adding nastily, ‘You can guarantee it.’
Chapter One Hundred and Eight
‘He’s going to want a bit of work at some point.’ Derek Greene was glad Vincent would soon be out.
Bertie Warner grinned. ‘Well, of course he will, but not for a few months. He’s got four years of shagging to catch up on first, as well as getting used to being on the out. We’ll have a party for him; after all, the boy’s been a fucking diamond. Bung him a few grand to tide him over and see what occurs – he might want to go straight.’
Derek laughed loudly at that one.
Bertie made a moue with his lips, then said in a serious manner, ‘It has been known!’
‘Not Vincent, it’s in his blood. I’ve had great reports about him, done his time like a fucking man, and he’s a big lad by all accounts. But then six hours a day in the gym will do that to a body. No, I think we should find him a good earner, get him back in the fold. He done a big favour for us and all concerned, and I respect him for that. Only eighteen and put on the island, and he made his mark there and all. Well liked, but didn’t take any nonsense.’
Bertie agreed with his friend, and he said jovially, ‘I bet that little bird of his is champing at the bit, eh? Four years with no nookie! Not heard a detrimental word about her either, have you?’
‘Not for a long time. Had a bit of trouble when he first went away, selling Es of all things, and to an undercover Filth. Something dodgy there – I could never put me finger on it, but it all smelt wrong, you know? That slag Christine Carter was behind it – she’s a fucking skank, that bird.’
Bertie was quiet for a moment. ‘Will young Vincent want to pay back any debts, do you think? You know, settle any scores?’
‘Wouldn’t blame him if he did. She nearly lost the kid over it.’
‘Her mother’s got the kid now, ain’t she?’
‘Most of the time, from what I can gather. Fucking Cynthia Callahan – Tailor, that was. Who would let that whore near an innocent child?’
Bertie shook his head at the stupidity of the social services; you read about those mad fuckers every day in the papers. They left kids with complete nut-bags who murdered them, starved them, or took them off nice people. No fucking sense in any of it. ‘Well, if he wants to hammer the fuck out of Cynthia, I bagsy a ringside seat.’
Derek grinned at that. ‘I’m with you there.’
‘But, Del Boy, she was fuckable when she was young. Arse like two boiled eggs in a handkerchief, tits that pointed at the ceiling, and she had a walk which could reduce a grown man to his knees. Well, you would want her on her knees, if you get my drift.’
Derek was really laughing now. ‘Young Gabby looks like her then, spitting image.’
Bertie grinned. ‘Yeah, but she ain’t got that air of danger that her mother always had. And she was one mad cunt – she shot my mate, and I could never get back at her, because she was only defending herself and her sister. It’s a bastard, but it’s the truth. If Parker had come after my old woman, I would have wanted Cynthia Tailor on her team, know what I mean? But he was a silly fucker was, Kevin. He wanted revenge, and revenge is something you do at your leisure – not in the heat of the moment.’
Derek nodded at the truth of the other man’s words. ‘Well, none of them have had any real luck, have they? Jimmy Tailor killed himself, we removed Parker from the equation, and the son’s in some kind of home for the mentally incapable. Fucking great family to be marrying into, that lot! Makes the fucking Borgias look like the Mickey Mouse Club.’
Bertie laughed. ‘Well, young Vincent will soon make up his mind