All the way home, I thought of what my options could be. I did not want to look at the only solid option on the horizon. By the time I arrived home, I had made up my mind. I was going to meet Liam O’Grady and Finn St Just and agree to their…barbaric proposal. But I would have to make up a tale to tell dear Heather.
*
The news that we were to be evicted had already reached Heather who was hysterical with grief. The twins, who had come home to their weeping mother, were shaken and white-faced.
I sank to the ground where Heather, ever the drama queen, was sitting, a bottle of vodka beside her.
She reeked of drink.
Putting my arms around her, I said quietly,
‘I have a way out of this problem. Trust me.”
The twins looked upset. They glanced at each other.
“We heard you…speak about that dirty old lecher, Nelson.”
And Rose, ever the softer one, began to sob,
“Bee, you don’t need to sacrifice yourself for us!”
I smiled thinly.
If they only knew!
But I stood up and said, “Make me a cuppa, there’s a dear!” in my best British accent, picked up from one of Heather’s soaps and the girls giggled.
I went upstairs to change and left the house in half an hour.
*
I had taken the precaution of making myself appear relaxed as I sat chatting with Heather and my sisters on one of those rare days when all of us were at home. But the fear that was growing into a small ball of fire in my stomach the thought of what I was about to do, made my attempts at humour forced at times.
Not that my stepmother noticed; oh no. Dear Heather was lost in her own tipsy world. But Anna and Rose were aware that I was on the verge of doing something momentous.
They came to me and hugged me as I left the house.
“Take care, sis,’ whispered Anna and Rose swept me into her arms and said,
“Bee, we love you.”
I hugged them back and stepped out into the chill evening.
*
The offices of St. Just and O’Grady loomed ominously in the gathering dusk as I got off the bus and made my way to the front office.
There was a young Asian woman at the desk this evening and she looked up with a smile as I approached.
“I need to talk to Mr O’Grady,” I said confidently and when she began to make excuses, I went on boldly,
‘Tell him that Bianca Criz has agreed.”
*
I knew that it sounded cryptic but I was too distraught to think of anything else. Never mind if I sounded like something out of a James Bond movie, I thought desperately. I just wanted to meet the men.
The woman’s brow furrowed.
She waited for me to add to the message but when she realized that I was not going to be forthcoming, she sighed in exasperation and made the call.
But when she got her answer, she turned to me, incredulity writ on her pretty face,
“He will meet you.”
She intoned in a breathless voice. My heart was pounding as I nodded tightly.
The die had been cast.
*
Chp
Liam O’Grady was deep in a discussion with a member of the Irish mob, for he was also the leader of an arm of the mob now, and he looked up in irritation as his Man Friday, David Weeks, approached hesitantly. Liam and his boys were steadily establishing themselves in the town of Hunter’s Wood as a force to be reckoned with: they had begun to spread their tentacles to the neighboring towns and the city of New Haven.
Weeks, a tall, thin individual who could be trusted with Liam’s life, came forward to the desk where Liam and Finn were sitting, surrounded by other members of the Irish mob. He was their manager, and personal assistant, all rolled into one.
Papers lay scattered on the table and only a large overhead light glowed powerfully in the room, casting the rest of the large study into darkness. Liam O’Grady needed the dark to concentrate, he said.
*
‘Sir,” he said, for Weeks was a man who believed in propriety, “Sir there’s a girl downstairs and she says to tell you that she has agreed. Bianca Cruz, I believe her name is.”
Liam O’Grady heard a swift intake of breath from his right and turned to his brother St Just who had sat straighter, his golden eyes blazing.
Desmond Bailey, who had been discussing the latest plans of expansion with regard to the thriving arms dealings, looked from one to the other in confusion. He was probably wondering what kind of secret code that was, thought Finn in amusement.
But Liam was grinning like the cat that has had all the cream. It took all his formidable willpower not to stand up and pump his fist in the air in victory.
he had won, he thought triumphantly.
Everyone had a price; pretty little Bianca Cruz had also been easily bought, after all!
*
Bianca
I walked behind the man who had appeared magically at the foyer, to lead me to the second floor of the formidable building. Everyone seemed to be in a rush here, I thought as I trotted behind the tall, reed-like man who introduced himself as Mr. Weeks.
People were walking fast, talking in whispers, all well-dressed staff, who gave me a cursory curiosity-filled look as I marched behind the man with the greying hair.
I had to run to keep up with him.
We rode up an elevator in silence and I swallowed hard as I stepped out into a carpeted corridor that had paintings on either side. Wood-panelled walls and a couple of doors leading off. But it was the room at the end of the corridor that I was led to by my silent escort. He stepped aside to let me in, and saying a silent prayer, I walked in, my sweaty palms clenched in fists.
The door shut noiselessly behind me.