The Annie Carter Series Books 1–4. Jessie Keane

Чтение книги онлайн.

       43

      It was dark by the time Annie got back to Limehouse, and the instant she walked in she knew there was trouble. Dolly was hovering in the front-room doorway looking fraught. Chris was missing. Aretha was leaning against the stairwell with a taut expression on her face. Darren, standing beside her, was chewing a hangnail, his eyes darting to and fro. Ellie was sitting halfway up the stairs.

      The place was quiet. No music, no clink of glasses. No clients. Except Pat Delaney, Annie noted through the open doorway, sitting in the front room alone and clearly drunk. He raised his glass to her.

      ‘Trouble?’ she asked Dolly.

      ‘Not yet.’

      ‘What, has he been on the uppers again?’

      ‘Yeah. Bold as brass. He’s been popping Dexedrine tablets like Smarties.’

      ‘Where’s Chris?’

      ‘Somewhere well away from here,’ said Dolly unhappily. ‘He’s no fool. He don’t want to get into a fight with Pat. One of the clients nearly floored the bastard, but I stepped in.’

      ‘Given him plenty to drink?’

      ‘Yeah. He must have a lead-lined belly to take all that whisky and still be conscious.’

      They looked gloomily in at Pat, who was still swigging it back. He raised his glass to them again. Both Annie and Dolly pasted smiles on their faces, which dropped the instant they turned away.

      ‘He’s a horrible, fat, Irish turd,’ said Darren with a shudder.

      ‘Just keep pouring the drink down him,’ advised Annie. ‘I’m off upstairs to clean up, okay?’

      They nodded. Annie stepped past Ellie and at last reached the sanctuary of her room. She felt drained. Seeing Ruthie again had done nothing for her self-esteem. Too much had happened, too much time had gone by for her to even begin to set things straight again. She had to just keep away from Max. That was a start. And she had to keep trying with Ruthie. No matter how many knock-backs she got, she just had to keep slogging away; whether she would admit it or not, Ruthie needed her. And Annie still loved her. She was her blood, her kin. She meant the world to her.

      Nice to be Catholic like the Delaneys, thought Annie. Nice to go to a priest and be absolved from sin. To confess, do penance, to have the whole thing over and done. Protestants – even lapsed ones like her and her family – didn’t have that luxury.

      She kicked off her shoes with a sigh and unzipped her dress, then froze. There were shouts and heavy footfalls on the stairs. She hardly had time to turn before the door banged wide open. The picture behind the door fell from the wall and the glass shattered. Pat Delaney was there, a bull-like presence in the doorway, swaying and leering.

      ‘So here we are, Annie Bailey!’ he said jovially, although his eyes glittered with malice. ‘Not very polite, is it, to come in and not say a proper hello to a Delaney boy.’

      Annie held her dress together and looked at him. ‘Hello, Mr Delaney,’ she said. ‘Now please leave my room.’

      ‘Eeewww! Hoity-toity, aren’t we, Annie Bailey?’ Pat mocked. ‘Not so stuck up around the Carter boys now, are you?’

      Annie saw Dolly, Darren and Aretha pile up into the doorway, their faces anxious. Ellie appeared too, half-hiding behind Darren.

      ‘I asked you to leave, Mr Delaney,’ said Annie. Her heart was beating out a sickening tattoo. ‘Let’s all go downstairs and have a drink, yes?’

      ‘No,’ said Pat, lurching forward. Annie stepped sharply back. Fuck Chris, clearing off like that – looking after number one, the selfish bastard.

      Dolly stepped up behind Pat. ‘I think Annie’s right,’ she said firmly. ‘We’ll all go downstairs together and have some fun, how about it, Mr Delaney?’

      She placed a hand on Pat’s arm. Pat shook it off, spun around and slapped her hard across the face. She flew backward, knocking into Darren, who caught her with a shout of dismay and put her back on her feet. Dolly touched a shaking hand to her mouth and it came away bloody.

      ‘Get away from me, you filthy tart,’ said Pat. ‘I’m not interested in your scuzzy arse, it’s this one I want to have a go at. Max Carter’s own personal whore. And good at it too, I’m told.’

      ‘Hey, you don’t come in here treatin’ people like that,’ said Aretha as she cradled Dolly.

      Pat put his face up close to hers. ‘You want to do something about it, girl? You tired of having limbs or something? You want to end up like the other one, without anything to scratch your black arse with?’

      Annie blinked. Surely he wasn’t talking about Celia? But there wasn’t time for thinking. He was coming at her again, ignoring the СКАЧАТЬ