The Faithless - Martina Cole [39]
Celeste followed her sister into the pristine kitchen and asked frankly, ‘Got any vodka?’
Cynthia turned to face her sister and, smiling sadly, she said sympathetically, ‘That bad?’
Celeste nodded.
Cynthia responded, ‘That’s why I’m still up and about too, James is on the missing list as well.’ She poured them both large vodkas and, gulping deeply from hers, she grimaced in a comical manner before saying, ‘I know you can’t tell me what’s going down, but I can guess from the fact you’re here it’s important. I know I done a wrong one, but it was only because I was frightened for James. He’s a cokehead, you know that, don’t you?’
Celeste didn’t answer her, she didn’t know what to say.
‘He snorts it up like it’s going out of fashion – out of his nut most of the time, he is. Now I know better than anyone that I’m not the greatest wife, or mother come to that, but I was jealous of you, and frightened for him. Does that make sense? I know now that what I did was wrong, was disgusting, and I’m paying the price for that. But you’re still my little sister and I can see you’re not right. You can confide in me if you like, or we can just sit here and talk about nothing. It’s your call, Celeste. Either way, I’m here for you, OK?’ It was said with honesty and humbleness.
Celeste knew that her sister really meant what she was saying. Her time in the wilderness had obviously hit her hard, but she knew what Jonny would say if he ever found out she’d told Cynthia anything. ‘I can’t talk about it, Cynth, I wish to fuck I could. But I just can’t.’
Cynthia plastered a smile on her lovely face and said in a resigned manner, ‘Fair enough. We’ll talk about something else. Have you seen the dresses in that new shop in Ilford? I treated myself the other day.’
Smiling gently, Celeste listened as her sister prattled on, grateful for her company, and glad that they were back on some kind of even footing. But the worry was still there, and she wondered when this bloody night would ever end.
Chapter Thirty-One
Bertie was getting worried. He couldn’t track down anyone of note on his payroll. He realised after the second phone call that they had been poached. All the minions were available, but the real deals, the hard men they relied on to administer their commands, were nowhere to be found. At first he had refused to believe it, hadn’t wanted to doubt that he had their loyalty. Now, though, it was an absolute certainty and he felt the unfamiliar feeling of dread lying in his stomach like lead.
Kevin wasn’t as surprised as Bertie; he knew that everyone had their price, and that no one was really a hundred per cent loyal – not in their game anyway. Everyone wanted to play for the winning side – that was human nature. But he was a bit fucked off that it had been done so easily and so sneakily. Neither he nor Bertie had even sniffed anything untoward going on, so that showed it was well planned and had been well executed. It also told him that they were on a losing streak. They had one chance to rectify this situation, and that was by taking out Jonny P once and for all. This was no longer just about revenge, it was about absolute survival, and that put a completely different complexion on things. This was now a fight to the death. And it was going to get dirty, very dirty indeed.
Kevin looked at Bertie Warner and he could see the fear and the disbelief in his eyes. Bertie had always believed that their blokes were sound, were unwavering in their loyalty.
‘He’s done us up like kippers, Bertie. We have to accept that. But if I’m going down, then I’m taking something of Parker’s with me.’
Bertie had never seen Kevin Bryant look so human in his life, and that worried him. For the first time in living memory he could see emotion on the big man’s face. But it was his friend’s words that really chilled him. He knew that Kevin, like himself, was not going out without a fight, and that was something he could understand.
‘I’m right behind you.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
‘Thanks for coming home with me, Cynth. I know it’s silly