Francesca, page 26
Paddy looked at Tony. Now he was taking him seriously. It had crossed his mind that he might be able to do business with him against Ralph. He pulled the trigger on the gun and fired. Tony had seen it coming. He raised his leg and pushed the desk towards Paddy, knocking him off his balance so that he fired into the air. Tony jumped out of his chair and picked up his own gun.
The table winded Paddy. It had hit him in the stomach and chest. Now Tony was standing at his side holding his gun to Paddy’s head. ‘What is it to be, you Irish bastard? Either way, this ends here and now. You have had two chances at killing me. Now it’s my turn.’
Paddy realised he was playing a losing game. He reluctantly picked up the syringe and thought about sticking Tony with it. He had put more than the usual dose in it. Thinking Tony was a user, he had decided to use this and get rid of him.
He held the full syringe up and was about to stab it into Tony’s leg when Tony interrupted him. He moved backwards to avoid it. ‘If you do that, I will still have time to shoot you in the head.’
Paddy realised he was fighting a losing battle. Tony seemed to be holding all of the cards. Either way, he realised, he was going to die—if not by ‘pretty boy’s’ hands, it would be someone else, possibly Ralph. And he wouldn’t be decent about it.
‘What about honour amongst thieves and all that? You say you will look after my wife and boys, eh?’ He looked Tony in the face. He was already full of heroin and accepting the situation. He spoke this time with respect, man to man.
Tony nodded. ‘I promise. God knows she deserves something better than you. And you know Ralph. He wouldn’t want the woman to suffer. So, time is moving on. What is it to be?’ The air was full of tension, each of them weighing each other up.
Death didn’t scare Paddy. He had killed many times in his life and knew it would be his turn one day.
‘Ah, fuck it, lad. May as well go out on a high, eh?’ He laughed at his own joke and picked up the syringe again and plunged it into his wrist. Tony watched him press the head of the syringe and the liquid started to flow. Halfway through, Paddy stopped pushing and fell face down on the desk.
Tony held Paddy’s hand and pressed his thumb down on the syringe until it was empty. He then walked towards the chair he had sat in and took out his handkerchief and wiped it down, cleaning the back, where he had pulled it out, of fingerprints. He picked up his own gun and put it back inside his jacket pocket. He turned up the volume on the television. He could hear Paddy’s breathing was laboured, and then he vomited.
Tony could hear him choking and knew it was time to leave. He checked the room. When Paddy was eventually was found, it would look like an accidental overdose. Everyone knew Paddy was a heroin addict. His death would come as no surprise.
Holding his handkerchief, Tony closed the office door behind him and walked through the iron gates, carefully locking the padlock with the key. Then he walked back to his car, job done. He left the hired car at the airport as agreed with the car rental firm and boarded his aeroplane home, satisfied with the outcome of his visit.
When the news was heard about Paddy, Ralph, being a known old friend of his, would do the right thing by his wife. Tony knew that.
When he got home in the early hours of the morning, Jake was waiting for him in his apartment. The look of relief on Jake’s face said it all.
‘Are you okay, Tony? Why didn’t you telephone me?’ He was rambling on, and he knew it. But he had been worried sick, and he was uptight. God know it could have gone either way. He had seen Paddy and friends underhanded murdering ways first-hand.
Tony poured a large whisky for both of them and handed one to Jake. It had been a long stressful day. He was tired, the adrenalin had ceased, and now all he wanted to do was sleep.
‘What happened Tony? What did Paddy say and do? Is he dead? Did you kill him?’
Tony ran his hands threw his hair and took a deep breath. He filled Jake in on all of the details and then stood up to go to bed.
‘What’s that?’ Tony noticed an envelope with a solicitor’s stamp on the table. It wasn’t his own solicitor, so what was it?
Jake told him not to bother with it now, but Tony opened it and was starting to read it. Inside was a letter from a family solicitor. Francesca had filed for divorce. The instructions were clear, indicating for him to instruct a solicitor of his own to deal with the proceedings. The only thing that surprised him more was that Francesca wasn’t divorcing him for adultery, which he had advised, but for non-compatibility. What he had just been through was hard and stressful, but this was painful.
‘It came yesterday,’ said Jake. ‘I recognised the stamp as a family lawyer. You don’t need to deal with any of that now, Tony. Get some rest. I’m staying here for now. Is that okay?’
‘Of course. This is your home.’ Tony threw the envelope and letter back on to the table and walked to his bedroom.
20
Destiny
‘Trust me, Mrs Lambrianu, you could come away from the divorce with a very nice settlement. Obviously, I know of your husband, and it is my job to advise you that you are being a little naive. You are entitled to some sort of settlement. What surprises me even more is that your husband never set up some kind of prenuptial arrangement. He was badly advised. Personally, I would have insisted on it.’
The solicitor I had employed to start my divorcee proceedings was quite exasperated with the fact that I wasn’t demanding more money or half of everything Tony owned. He felt we wouldn’t get half of everything, but I would get a large settlement.
Sitting opposite him at his desk I watched as he seemed to go on and on, instructing me in all kinds of ways that we should have a meeting with Tony’s solicitors or at least take it to court. He was very well dressed in his suit and tie, his glasses were perched on the end of his nose, and he had a gaily coloured handkerchief in his jacket pocket. As soon as I mentioned the name Lambrianu, he had taken my divorce case instantly, probably increasing his hourly rate just as quickly.
‘Mr Goldman, I do understand what you are telling me. But, I assure you I do know what I am doing. As for wanting more out of my husband, no, I do not want a settlement. I have my house and money in the bank, and I also have a job. It would be unfair and greedy of me to want more. After all, we haven’t been married very long, and my husband has built his empire and worked very hard to make any money long before I came along. Also, as you say, he trusted me. There was no prenuptial agreement made, and I am not prepared to abuse that trust and look like a gold-digger.’
I felt I had stated my case. Now Mr Goldman would have to listen to me and accept what I was saying. He let out a deep sigh of despair. ‘Very well, Mrs Lambrianu. Let’s get this straight. You have the deeds to your house, and Mr Lambrianu is to make no claim on the marital home. You are asking that he pay the legal fees for the divorce and to inform him that you will be changing your name back to your previous surname. Was that your maiden name?’
‘No, Mr Goldman. It is my previous married name—the same name as my son. I have been married before. So you see, Mr Goldman, I already have one failed marriage behind me. And Tony would be more than generous letting me keep my home and money. He would be leaving me without debt.’
I watched as Mr Goldman eyed me up. He couldn’t quite make me out. I was either hell to live with or there was something very wrong with me to have two failed marriages in such a short space of time. I wasn’t sure if he pitied me or thought my husbands were well rid of me!
‘Very well, Mrs Lambrianu, I will get this all written up and write to Mr Lambrianu advising him to instruct a solicitor of his own. That way, we can start proceedings immediately, if that is what you really want.’
I stood up and shook his hand. ‘Thank you, Mr Goldman. I will wait to hear from you.’
There, I had done it. Tony had said that I was to file for the divorce when the time came, preferably for adultery, because that would be quicker, and he would take all of the blame.
I had the deeds of the house, and Tony had said that I would only receive them when the contract was over. As it had been a month since I had heard anything from Tony, I guessed the contract was over.
It saddened me that Tony hadn’t felt the need to say something or even shake my hand goodbye. I don’t know what I expected, but it had just come to a standstill. I was back to square one; only this time, I was a lot better off than I had been with Luke.
All the decorating was finished, and Julie and the workmen had done a beautiful job. The place was completely transformed. The kitchen alone was the size of a house and led through into a full circular conservatory. The garden at the side of the conservatory, which was smaller and more intimate that the others was a basic square lawn with surrounding borders full of little rose bushes in an array of colours. At the very far corner was a cherry blossom tree for shade if needed. I had wanted my own little bit of garden just for myself to potter around in, and this was what they had come up with. Beautiful.
All the other surrounding gardens and lands attached to the house had shrubs and conifers but also needed a tractor lawn mower to cut the grass. Julie had hired a gardener to come and look after it all, but I had wanted my own little rose garden, my own space.
The rest of the extension had included another bedroom en suite and walk-in dressing rooms. The house had always been beautiful. But all this, even down to the soft pink chiffon curtains Julie had had the designers put around my four-poster bed, made it look even more feminine and relaxing.
Bobby’s bedroom had gone beyond all expectations. The designers had installed a black carpet with the yellow Batman logo on it. All the walls had been painted with wipe-clean paint. You could wash and wipe away all those fingerprints without washing the paint off. He had walk-in wardrobes, so no clothes were scattered all over the place. Of course the pièce de résistance was the large double bed with a batman headboard. As Bobby got older and grew out of his Batman phase, the woman I’d bought it from had informed me, I could always change the headboard.
They had even organised a playroom, as Bobby’s bedroom was the same side of the extension. The new room made it so all his car racing tracks and Lego buildings didn’t have to be dismantled and put away. Julie had even put a large television on the walls and had all of Bobby’s consoles fitted around it.
Julie, being Julie, had gone that extra mile and had one of my bedroom walls fully mirrored. She had stated, tongue-in-cheek, that it was easier seeing your evening dresses from all angles. Then she had given me one of her cheeky smiles and a wink! All in all, it was a show house. So when my solicitor urged me to rethink my options about a settlement, not only was that not part of our contract, but looking around my home, what more could I ask for?
Julie and the workmen had done me proud. I did feel inside, though, that she had been over extravagant with Tony’s generosity. It was only right that I should dig into my savings and pay thirty thousand pounds towards what he had paid. It might at least pay for the playground Julie had got the builders to build for Bobby, with a swing, slides, and climbing frames. I knew Elle had put this idea forward, because each time I came home from work, the two of them were in consultation, looking at plans and colours schemes.
The cellar was huge, and I hadn’t really known what to do with it. Julie decided to get the builders to half it. That half was full of racks of expensive wines and champagnes, something I was never going to use. It would take me years to get through all of those.
Julie had been like a naughty schoolgirl when it came to the other half of the cellar. It was apparently a secret, so much so that I wasn’t allowed down there. When the workmen had finished, I was led by Julie down the stairs. Julie gave a loud triumphant round of applause and left me to gaze upon her creation.
She had gotten the designers and builders to turn it into a men’s drinking room. It looked almost like a pub or a gentlemen’s club. There were pool tables, a fully stocked bar, lager pumps, and even barrels underneath the bar. A large television dominated one wall with all of the sports channels you could possibly dream of. Consoles were fitted up and scattered around. There were tables and chairs and even a poker table. This was a man’s paradise. It was amazing. But there was a problem, wasn’t there? I didn’t have a man to put in paradise.
She had been all excited when she had chatted on about it being somewhere for Tony and the guys to relax when at home, without being under our feet. She had drummed her fingers on her lips with a pensive look on her face. She couldn’t decide whether to show Tony now or make it into a birthday or Christmas present for him. Then she had asked me the unthinkable. ‘By the way, Fran, when is Tony’s birthday?’
I had been rooted to the spot. It was such a simple question, but it was one I didn’t have the answer to. How ridiculous. I kept trying to change the subject. In the end, I said, ‘Show him now, Julie. After all, he deserves to see we didn’t forget him.’ This seemed to pacify her, hopefully, and she was so excited she didn’t notice my apprehension.
Dear God, I was married to man, and I didn’t even know when his birthday was, even if he had mentioned it, I didn’t remember, what with everything else I had to think about. I knew how old he was. He was exactly ten years older than me, but month and date?
I recalled how, during all of the building works, Tony and I had started to talk properly, how we’d walk along the beach with Bobby while walking Susie—anything to escape the dust, noise, and Julie barking orders at the workmen. We had strolled along and finally ended up on ‘our’ bench on the front of the pier, watching the waves on the sea, laughing, and talking while drinking our coffee.
It seemed to me only I had seen those times as special, because Tony had not wanted to do it since we got home. I knew I was in a confused state. I had grown feelings for him, but I wasn’t sure if it was out of habit from seeing him so often or if I fancied him like so many other women.
I still thought of that night on the beach. I could still feel his kisses and the passion we had shared. I had been the dutiful wife and had been Tony’s alibi, which was all it had meant to him. For myself, well, that was a different matter—one I would have to come to terms with,
There had been times when we had been intimate. To myself it had meant something special. Tony had spent all of his life being charming. It had all become second nature. He probably didn’t even realise how it affected the women in his life. Or if he did, he didn’t care.
Julie came to see me. Only this time, I noticed she wasn’t her usual bubbly self. She looked slightly agitated, as though she had something on her mind. Elle, who was there baking Bobby’s favourite cakes, cast a glance towards me. It was obvious to both of us that something was wrong.
Elle didn’t need to come around and bake when I was home. I was quite capable of doing my own housework, as it was only Bobby and myself. But she came anyway, and she seemed to enjoy it. We never discussed it and just let things carry on. I was used to her and Julie being there now, it didn’t feel like home without them both.
Personally, I think Elle just enjoyed the company and especially Julie’s gossip, which was always colourful. Mainly, she liked the feeling of being needed, I think. We all like to feel needed and useful. Why should Elle be any different? She also never mentioned Tony’s absence.
‘Okay, Julie. What’s wrong? We’ve heard you complain about Ralph moaning about his broken leg, and you have shown us both your designer skills. What is it, Julie?’ I said, working the comment is, as she had been skirting from subject to subject.
‘Oh, Fran. Is it that obvious? Well, Ralph hasn’t noticed yet. He’s too wrapped up in himself. He gets chauffeured back and forth to see Tony and Jake.’ Then she stopped, knowing full well Tony hadn’t been in touch. ‘Oh God, here goes. I’m going to say it out loud. I’m pregnant’. Julie looked at us both, waiting for our reactions.
Elle looked at me. She took her hands out of the mixing bowl full of flour and butter and started wiping them on a towel. She turned and switched on the coffee maker. We were both stunned. Whatever we had imagined was wrong, this wasn’t it.
‘For God’s sake, you two, say something,’ she shouted at us both. She looked like a woman in despair.
I treaded carefully. ‘Is this good news or bad news, Julie? You don’t seem very pleased about it. How many months do you think you are?’
She didn’t look any different. She hadn’t put on any noticeable weight, although now I thought about it, she hadn’t been drinking at all. She hadn’t even mentioned she’d been to the club.
‘It’s a bloody disaster, Fran. For a man who said he couldn’t get around quickly, he moved pretty sharpish when I gave him the nod towards the bedroom.’ Now she was strutting around the kitchen like a chicken without a head. She was standing by the breakfast bar, in her white trouser suit and high-heeled shoes. She decided to sit down. It seemed all the fight had left her.
‘Before you ask, I don’t have contraception Fran. I only use it for hygiene purposes, when I’ve had other male company. I can’t have children, Fran—bad ectopic pregnancy when I was younger. Josh isn’t my son.’
I was glad Bobby was at school because I felt this conversation was going to take some time. This was real soul-searching. And for everything Julie had, it seemed she only had myself and Elle to tell. Having her confide in me this way felt like an honour. Julie Gold didn’t need anyone. Everyone needed her.
Elle placed the coffee cups down on the bar and pulled up a stool.
