The Lies They Told Read online

  The restaurant appeared as they turned the corner. They were immediately drawn to the two henchmen positioned by the doorway. She cast a nervous eye in Harry’s direction as he smiled at her with a reassuring wink.

  “We are here for the party? Ben invited us.”

  Harry gave their names and waited whilst the men conferred and checked their phones. Each guest had been listed with their name and picture. One man looked up from beneath his brow and checked them both. There were no pleasantries or greetings, just a cursory nod to confirm that they could proceed. She pulled in closer to Harry as they stepped through the door. They were welcomed with a wall of warmth that bathed their faces. A waiter pointed towards the rear of the restaurant as they weaved between the tables. The dulcet tones of a woman singing played through the speaker system and mingled with the various conversations amongst the diners scattered around the restaurant. The familiar smell of pasta, pizzas and Italian herbs filled the air. There was a relaxed, cosy atmosphere in the restaurant, with low ceilings and subdued lighting that added to the ambience.

  They made their way towards what was referred to as the “backroom”, a separate dining area often hired for private functions and celebrations. It was a long, narrow room covering the width of the restaurant, with fixed, comfy seating to one wall, a row of tables, and individual chairs on the other side. Decorative pieces and oversized mirrors were placed strategically to create a feeling of space and airiness.

  The setting was so far removed from her own life that it felt alien to her. She often had nothing more than half a packet of Rich Tea biscuits for dinner, or a packet of Pom-Pom bear crisps for lunch. That’s all they could afford. Occasionally, she had sneaked out a few pound coins to treat herself to a bottle of Coke and a bar of chocolate, but they were luxuries. Harry insisted on treating her whenever they were together. Since being with him she’d experienced her first Subway roll, her first doner kebab, and her first KFC. They weren’t healthy options, but she had walked past these places so many times that they were the first things she wanted to experience.

  As they reached the “backroom”, the sounds from the front of the restaurant were replaced by crass and over-exaggerated laughter that drowned out everything and sucked the authenticity from the place. More than twenty people filled the room. Champagne bottles littered the table, and a heavy veil of smoke hung like a floating curtain a few feet above the tables. The strong smell of cigars attacked her throat and tickled her nostrils. She wanted to cough but suppressed it for fear of attracting further attention. Despite a wide blanket ban on smoking in public places, the waiters and owner knew better than to challenge the party.

  As they approached the tables, Ben pushed his chair back and made his way towards Harry.

  “Yo, man, thanks for coming.” Ben and Harry embraced like long-lost brothers, their handshake buried between them. And they were like brothers. Best friends since primary school, they had looked out for each other. They had shared similar interests and had grown up on neighbouring estates.

  “Sorry we’re a bit late. Molly couldn’t do her hair at home, so she came back to mine to do it. But then we got a bit sidetracked.” Harry winked in Ben’s direction, as Molly’s face flushed crimson with embarrassment.

  Ben turned towards Molly and welcomed her with a hug.

  “You ain’t half scrubbed up well,” he remarked, his thick cockney accent sounded cheeky, as he looked her up and down.

  Yet another man looking me up and down.

  “No wonder you were late, mate. I would have stayed in bed with her, if I was you.”

  The laddish banter did nothing to calm her nerves as they moved closer to the tables. Diane, Ben’s mum, also rose to greet them and show them to their seats.

  Jack gave them nothing more than a cursory look before he continued with the conversations he was having with several men at one end of the table. With a glass of champagne in one hand, and a fat cigar in the other, his menacing stare and underlying wealth and power were matched by a large gold bracelet that hung loosely from his wrist and several gold rings stuffed on his chubby fingers.

  Molly gripped Harry’s hand under the table, squeezing it for reassurance.

  Waiters placed out a large selection of dishes at random intervals along the table, and guests picked through them at leisure. Molly wasn’t sure where to begin. All the foods were alien to her, and it took some coaxing from Harry before she forked some food on to her plate and enjoyed the new textures and flavours that danced in her mouth. Her stomach growled in appreciation as she fed the hunger that burnt deep inside her.

  She sneaked a couple of glances in Jack’s direction. He had a formidable reputation, and truth be told, he terrified her. The stories that Harry had told her about Jack made him sound godlike in the criminal world. The men that leant across the table, craning their necks and listening to every word that left his lips, were just as menacing to look at. None of them would win any awards in the good-looking category. Shaved heads, cropped hair, broken noses, and stubbly beards added to the aura of aggression that surrounded them.

  Jack looked no better. With a Roman nose, and a greying beard to match his swept-back brown hair with a grey tint, he looked as if he’d been through the wringer. His face was round, his lips were thin, and his eyes were small. Seeing everything and revealing nothing. Even from this distance, she could hear his hard and deep voice.

  Catching herself staring for too long, Molly glanced back at her food as Jack caught her eye. She dared not look up again, afraid just the strength of his intense gaze could terrify her further. This wasn’t the first time she had seen him. Jack had occasionally been seen on the estate when he needed to put people in their place or needed to sort out a problem that one of his foot soldiers hadn’t managed to fix. Even though he came mob-handed, he was more than comfortable turning up on his own. His reputation preceded him, enveloping everything in a cloud of terror. But for his own safety, and fear of reprisals from other crime families, he would always take a few heavies for backup.

  He had been on her estate not long ago, tearing up the place and looking for Finchy. For someone so loud and arrogant, Finchy had disappeared through the cracks in the pavement when Jack had arrived. Darren Finch was her mum’s boyfriend, in the loosest sense of the word, who also headed up the local crew on their estate. She saw them as two-bit amateurs, and nowhere near in Jack’s league, despite them thinking so. It didn’t matter whether you were black, white or Asian, young or old, in a pram, or pushing a Zimmer frame, Finchy saw them all as targets. He ruled the estate with his fists, and he was no better behind closed doors. Finchy had intimidated her, and made her mum’s life a misery.

  3

  Sitting no more than a few feet away from Jack, Molly suppressed a shiver. The man had reduced Finchy to nothing more than a snivelling coward when he had finally tracked him down. Surrounded on all four sides by apartments, Jack had dragged Finchy to the middle of the courtyard in an act of public humiliation. Jack had pinned Finchy to the ground, before unleashing a torrent of violence as Finchy screamed for his life, his legs thrashing wildly, his hands pinned beneath Jack’s legs, who sat astride him.

  Jack stood and wiped the blood from his hands. If Finchy thought that the attack was over, he was wrong. The heavies took over, kicking the crumpled form until he moved no more. Finchy had stepped above his station, promising too much, taking even more, and spiralling into debt as he siphoned off profits for his own greed. Jack Taylor oversaw the drugs trade and Finchy was nothing more than a conduit, a supply line. And that’s the way Jack preferred it. The more levels he put between him and the police, the less likely they were to find him at the head of the business.

  Molly had hoped Finchy would leave them alone, but she’d been sorely mistaken. Finchy had bounced back not long after.

  “Are you okay, babe?” Harry asked, wiping his mouth the back of his hand.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

  Harry shook his head.
“Dunno. You look odd?”

  Molly grimaced. “Oh, cheers. I love your compliments.”

  Harry backtracked. “I didn’t mean it that way. It looks as if you’re not enjoying yourself.”

  She wasn’t. As much as she loved the food, and besisdes being with Harry, she’d rather not be at the party. It all felt so alien to her. She looked longingly into his eyes. For the first time in her life, she was happy. With no close friends, and a broken family, she had no one to turn to. But Harry was there now, and only he knew the truth. Harry knew about Finchy’s bullying and intimidation. He knew Molly’s mum had been used as a drugs mule frequently in return for a few wraps and a wad of cash. And he knew of what was coming Molly’s way if Finchy had anything to do with it. They could share in each other’s pain. It was them against the world, or that’s how she saw it anyway.

  One minute Molly and Harry were deep in conversation, and the next, the atmosphere soured as tension prickled in the air.

  “Well well, look what the cat dragged in,” Jack growled. His eyes were narrow and cold, the muscles in his jaws flexing and tightening as he stood and strode towards the opening where the man stood.

  The men seated close to Jack sat back in their chairs, and pulled their shoulders back, their hands turning into clenched fists, ready to launch at a moment’s notice.

  “Someone invited me, Jack.” Dean Macholl turned the screen of the mobile phone in Jack’s direction. His eyes left Jack’s face for a moment as they locked on to Diane, who had joined Jack’s side. She stood there with one arm wrapped across her chest, the other resting on it as she nibbled her nails. The confrontation frayed her nerves, stealing the moisture from her mouth, and widening her eyes underneath the force of her fear.

  “Hello, Diane,” Macholl said, his eyes not leaving her.

  “I didn’t give you permission to talk to my missus. In fact, I didn’t give you permission to come here in the first place. Is it some kind of wind-up?” He snarled as he thought about how Macholl had got in despite his security on the door.

  Macholl smiled to himself. He could read Jack easily.

  “My guess is you’re wondering how I got past your two meatheads. Well you hadn’t considered that the kitchen has its own rear entrance,” he said, laughing.

  If there was one thing that Jack hated more than anything else, it was being humiliated. When humiliation came in front of his family and close associates it only riled him further. In one swift movement, he pushed Diane to one side and lunged towards Macholl, grabbing the lapels of his leather jacket and thrusting him backwards. Behind, chairs scraped across the floor, as Jack’s associates launched to their feet, ready to step in if instructed.

  Molly froze, paralysed by fear. Harry placed himself between Molly and the commotion. She stifled a scream. The knuckles in her hand bleached white as she clutched her napkin tight.

  Macholl didn’t respond as he remained pinned to the wall as Jack’s stale breath washed over his face.

  “I’ve come for what’s mine,” Macholl demanded.

  Diane’s stomach twisted in knots as her body trembled. Fear flashed through her as she processed the scene.

  Macholl looked past Jack’s shoulder in Diane’s direction.

  “You owe me, Beanie. You took a lot from me and left me with nothing. I spent five years banged up because of you. It could have been so different.” His last few words were said in reflection more than anything else as he continued to look at Diane.

  “I owe you nothing, you piece of shit. Who do you think you are, waltzing in here and mouthing off like that? Do you want this to be your last day on this planet?”

  Dean Macholl offered nothing more than a smile in return. He grabbed Jack’s wrists and pulled them off his jacket.

  “I promise you; you will pay.”

  4

  Silence echoed through the vehicle on the drive back to their house in Highgate. Diane knew better than to open her mouth when Jack was in this frame of mind. He had thrown his keys to the Merc in her direction and told her to drive, whilst he sat in the passenger seat staring out of the window, his eyes fixed off into the distance. Ben remained silent, taking his mother’s cue, choosing instead to flick through his Instagram and Snapchat feeds.

  Diane occasionally glanced across checking to see if Jack’s mood had changed at all. It hadn’t. For the short journey out of town, he had remained tight-lipped, one arm resting on the door, the other on his lap. She noticed how his hands were curled into tight fists.

  The electronic gates to their house seemed to take an eternity as the black ornate railings glided open majestically. Jack had pushed past Diane as she opened the front door. He made his way to the living room, heading straight for the drinks bar that took up the rear wall of the room.

  Diane followed him in, her feet padding slowly one step at a time across the marble floors.

  “Are you okay? Don’t let him get to you.” She felt foolish as the words trickled from her lips. She didn’t know what else to say.

  “Okay? Fucking okay?” He seethed. His tone was harsh and aggressive.

  Diane froze to the spot, her arms pinned to her sides.

  He threw his tumbler of whiskey across the room, the glass smashing into a thousand miniature crystals as it hit the wall. They scattered across the floor and glinted under the lights like a bed of diamonds.

  Jack had always known he would cross paths with the man at some point. What Jack hadn’t expected was that he’d have the front to turn up at a family celebration making demands.

  “The piece of shit. He thinks he can just waltz in and throw his weight around demanding this and demanding that. And then he has the barefaced cheek to threaten me in front of my closest associates and family…”

  “I’m… I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way, love.” She tried to reassure him.

  Jack’s face contorted, trying to make sense of Diane’s words. He looked at her with an expression that questioned whether they had been at the same damn party.

  “Are you for real? Are you blind or something? No one, and I mean no one has ever got away with talking to me like that. They’ve either ended up kneecapped and in a wheelchair, or buried in Epping Forest. Do you wanna go the same way?” He snarled, molten rage spewing from him like an erupting volcano.

  Diane shook her head, and glanced towards the floor, before taking one step back. She wanted a cigarette but had left them in her handbag.

  “No, I didn’t think so.”

  Jack’s rage snaked up his spine, threatening to overwhelm him. In his eyes, Diane was no better than Dean Macholl. Jack was angry at the way Dean had challenged his authority, but he was furious at the way Macholl had looked at Diane and what that had insinuated.

  “What… What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “I’ll sort him,” he replied as he made his way towards the front door.

  She stepped in his way, placing both hands on his chest, her eyes pleading with him not to do anything. His eyes bore into her. They were cold, angry and soulless. She could feel his hot breath pounding her face.

  “Don’t, babes. Please don’t.”

  He grabbed her arms and manhandled her to one side as he stepped in closer. “You don’t get it, do you, you stupid bitch? No one gets away with doing that.”

  The words became more heated as his temper threatened to erupt once more. He tightened his grip on her arms, cutting off the circulation. His lids flickered as he narrowed his eyes.

  Diane’s bottom lip trembled in a mixture of fear and sadness.

  All the while, Ben had waited in the hallway listening. If there was one thing he hated more than anything else, it was the way Jack treated his mum. But he was no match for Jack. At five foot six, Jack was a few inches taller than him, heavier and more violent. But that didn’t stop him feeling sorry for his mum and wanting to protect her in any way he could.

  He stepped into the doorway and was drawn to the look of fear etched heavily in the lines
on his mum’s face. She glanced back and forth between her son and Jack. She felt humiliated and embarrassed in front of her own flesh and blood. Jack on the other hand turned to the side and glared at Ben.

  “What do you want?” Jack spat.

  Ben shuffled nervously on the spot. “Please leave her alone.”

  “Don’t you start as well. Clear off, you tosser. This is between me and your mum. She’s old enough to fight her own battles.”

  “No… No. I won’t clear off. For fuck’s sake, leave my mum alone. All she has ever done is stand by your side. She hasn’t batted an eyelid, or had a go at you, or even said a word about your shady deals with Mr Singh. Washing all your money through his cash and carry, and the hundred grand that you keep stashed in the spare tyres in the garage, or even the underage tarts that you shag.”

  Jack threw Diane to the floor, and steamed into Ben, his fists pummelling Ben’s body. “I’m going to fucking kill you, and then feed you to the pigs,” he screamed.

  Ben cowered into a ball, his arms held across his chest in a futile attempt to protect his body. The only sound in the room was the heavy thud as each punch met its target.

  “Stop! Stop!” Diane screamed as she raced over and clawed at Jack’s back. “You will kill him. He’s just a boy. He’s not done you any harm.”

  Jack threw an elbow behind him to push her off. “Get off me, woman.”

  Diane scrambled back to her feet and jumped on to Jack’s back, throwing her arm around his neck to pull him off. She screamed and hissed as any mother would when trying to protect her child.

  “Take it out on me. But leave Ben out of it,” she pleaded. With no signs of Jack stopping, she raked her fingers across Jack’s face, the hot, searing pain forced a scream from him.