The Faithless - Martina Cole [79]
Linford believed Jonny was speaking the truth and, in a strange way, he almost understood where he was coming from. But Linford also knew that, for all Jonny’s protestations, there had also been an element of ‘I want her, so I’ll have her’ to it as well. He had taken her because he could, and he had not cared about the consequences until they had jumped up and bitten him on the arse. Jonny was responsible for all this mess, because it was believed in their world that men were stronger than women. That men should have the strength to turn away from temptation, whereas women were too weak to resist.
‘Well, she turned out to be a very expensive pastime, Jonny. She cost Jimmy his life, and everyone else around you two has been infected with your games. You more than anyone, because this has cost you your good name. You’re the butt of jokes and the cause of idle gossip. It will die down, but it will always be there, and you have to live with that knowledge. People love nothing more than to see the mighty fall, and you have fallen a fucking long way in people’s estimation.’
Jonny sighed heavily. Linford was honest, he’d give him that. Whoever said the truth hurt was a clever fucker, but he would ride this storm as he had others. Look at Kevin Bryant – he had taken that on, and it had worked for him up until the end. He would get through this, he was determined.
‘Well, now we’ve got that out of the way, shall we get back to work? I’m meeting with the villa geezers tonight. Are you coming or not?’
Linford nodded. ‘I’ll be there, don’t worry.’
‘Good. Now what’s next on the agenda?’ Jonny felt depressed, but he knew what he had to do was show his face and act as if everything was normal, then eventually, in the not too distant future, it would be. At least, that’s what he hoped anyway, although the way things were going, he worried it might take longer than he had first believed.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Vincent O’Casey was thrilled to be in on his first ever piece of real skulduggery. He just hoped it all went as planned. At eighteen, he was a good-looking lad, and he had a nice way about him – not pushy, but not passive either. Anyone looking at him would know he could take care of himself if the situation demanded it. He was very respectful, called people ‘Mr’ when appropriate, and he had a reputation for being good with cars, and reliable into the bargain.
Derek Greene had seen his potential and, for that reason alone, he would always have young Vincent’s loyalty and appreciation.
Vincent liked Derek. He was a man who was going places, but he listened to Vincent, and advised him on the many pitfalls of the criminal lifestyle. Vincent O’Casey came from a family of no-hopers – his father and brothers were nothing more than icecream freezers. Local geezers, thieves, sold a bit of knock-off, played the hard men to the neighbours. Talked the talk, but would need a glass to hand in a real fight. They were the kind of people that Vincent was determined not to be – local bully boys who thought the world began and ended on their council estate. He wanted more than that. Vincent knew he had the nous, the inborn cunning, necessary to achieve in the world he wanted to be a part of. Now he had a champion of sorts in Derek Greene, and this was his one and only chance of breaking free of his background and environment. If this all went tits up he would be like his father and brothers – just another fucking mook from East London, a blockhead, and he was not going to let that happen without a fight.
Tonight he was washed, shaved and in his best clobber, ready for literally anything. As he drove into the scrapyard in Bow, he was whistling with suppressed excitement. He was driving an old but spotless 2.8 litre Ford Capri, which had been a nice silver colour, until he had stolen it three nights previously. Now it was dark blue, and the plates were