‘But, one day, I take over everything properly?’

Briony took a pull on her cigarette before she answered.

‘Providing me and you don’t have any major falling outs, that’s about the strength of it, yes.’

‘I’ll go a good job, Briony. In fact, I’ll work like a nigger for you!’

The smile faded from his handsome face at the look Briony gave him.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-eight

Tommy Lane was tired out. His face was aching with the cold and his hands were frozen. He turned to face the wind, his eyes immediately stinging with tears. He sank his hands deep into the pockets of his coat, wishing now he had put on his gloves. He saw a car coming towards him, its headlights bright in the darkness. He could see his own breath as he exhaled in relief. The car slowed and he walked to the passenger side and slipped inside.

‘You’re late.’

Marcus Dowling looked at him, a cigarette dangling from his bottom lip.

‘Sorry, Tommy mate, but Briony kept me late then I had to take Bernadette home.’

Tommy nodded in the dimness of the car. He lit himself a cigarette and said seriously, ‘I’ve had word that there’s trouble brewing for Briony with the Ricardos, the Maltese ponces.’

Marcus scowled, his usually open face troubled.

‘They’ve been in The Windjammer a few times, haven’t said a word to anyone that I know of.’

‘They think that now me and Briony are history, they can have a crack at her. Well, me and you are going to pop round and visit the old man, let him see a show of solidarity. He should be at his gambling rooms in Soho about now. So let’s get going, me balls are nearly frozen solid.’

Marcus drove towards the West End. He was quiet for a while. Then: ‘They’ve got a fucking nerve’ain’t they?’ He spoke incredulously. ‘I mean, Tommy, even if you’re off the scene as far as they know, Briony’s no pushover and she’s got me as her number two now. Her workforce are hardly bumboys, are they?’

Tommy laughed gently. His taut face relaxed. ‘Listen, Marcus me old mate, I never met a Maltese yet who had an ounce of brain in their thick skull. She’s a bint, so she’s a prime target. As far as they’re concerned she’s got above herself, see. And if they think so, everyone else will, so tonight me and you put them all out of the ball game. I’ve got a shooter in me coat. You came tooled up, I take it?’

Marcus nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘Good. How is Briony?’

Marcus shrugged lightly.