Die Hard Mod (8 page)

‘C’mon darlin’, fuck me hard!’

‘Christ Jeanie, you’re beautiful…’

It was as if they were trying to devour each other as Steve thrust his cock in as deep as he could.

‘Oh God, it feels like you’ve got bigger …. c’ mon, harder darlin’. I want to feel you come inside me… oh sweet Jesus!’

20

Steve’s head was still spinning as they walked back onto
East Street
.

‘Hey Jeanie, can we sit down by the sea for a while?’

As they walked, she squeezed his hand and kissed him briefly on the cheek.

‘I’d love to darlin’ but I really should be getting home. I can pick up a taxi at the top of the street.’

‘So when can I see you again?’

Jeanie stopped walking and looked at Steve pleadingly.

‘Thing is darlin’, my life is a little complicated at the moment and meeting up might be tricky.’

‘You mean you’re seeing someone.’

‘I said it’s complicated, Steve,’ Jeanie snapped. ‘Let’s just leave it at that.’

‘So am I gonna see you again or not?’

She let out an exasperated sigh.

‘Okay Steve, I tell you what. Come and meet me at Waves Café on
Madeira Drive
next Sunday at three. There’s a Mods and Rockers reunion thing happening and you’d be able to check out the scooters. There’s no punch-ups any more, honest… they just admire each others bikes and shoot the breeze.’

Steve was gutted that she was being off-hand so soon after their love-making but he was determined to keep his composure.

‘Sounds cool, I’ll see you then. Or if you’re ever around
Lansdowne Place
, give us a knock. Number 76… easy to remember… year I was born ‘n all.’

From the disinterested look in her eyes, he could tell that there was little chance of an impromptu visit anytime soon. They exchanged a brief kiss and Jeanie headed towards the queue of loud-talking drunks at the
East Street
taxi rank while Steve walked southwards towards the sea wondering what the hell had just happened.

21

Steve woke up to the sound of giggles and The Beach Boys’
Sunflower
album coming from Bobby’s bedroom. The previous night’s encounter with Jeanie had left him feeling a disorientating mix of dark anxiety and romantic longing. He recalled Johnny Bell’s warning that she was ‘really bad news’ but still he knew that he would be counting the days until the agreed meeting on
Madeira Drive
the next weekend.

By the sounds of things, Bobby and Helen were enjoying a morning fuck so Steve decided to leave the flat to get himself a Daily Mirror and a hangover-curing can of Pepsi followed by a fry-up.

After popping into the newsagent, he strolled along
Church Road
swigging his Pepsi until he came to Harry’s English Restaurant. It was a bit more posh than his usual haunts but he fancied treating himself. He bagged a window seat and settled down to read his paper. It was a habit he’d got into since he was a teenager and as he skimmed through pages of inconsequential tripe about reality TV shows and drug-addled rock stars, he wondered why he bothered.

After the waitress took his order of a full English breakfast, Steve picked a copy of The Argus that the table’s previous occupant had left behind. Steve found it hard to feel much interest in a threatened bin men’s strike or the presentation of a cake to some pensioners but on Page 5, something caught his eye.

The headline read ‘Cubitt’s Parisian adventure’ and next to it was a photo of the ‘controversial local property developer’ looking like a 1960s French movie star. The feature described how Cubitt had bought a derelict building near the centre of
Paris
and was in the process of transforming it into ‘one of
Europe
’s most exclusive hotels.’

‘He is currently dividing his time between Sussex and France and is hoping to complete work on the hotel early next year,’ the article continued, ‘… but as relatives of the victims of a fire at Giuseppe’s restaurant in Shoreham continue their campaign to have the case re-examined by the police because they claim to have found conclusive proof of Cubitt’s involvement in starting the blaze, his profile is likely to remain high.’

The rest of the paper enlightened Steve to some local architectural planning controversies and
Brighton
and Hove Albion’s pre-season transfer activity and once he’d finished his breakfast, he decided that he fancied getting back to the flat and luxuriating in a bath.

When he returned, Bobby was sprawled out on the sofa watching a favourite edition of Soccer AM that he’d saved on Sky-plus.

‘So where’s the lovely lady then?’ asked Steve. Bobby was struggling not to look smug.

‘Think she needed to get home to recover from a night of Bobby-love. Poor girl was shagged senseless.’

‘Spoken like a true gent, Bobby.’

Bobby turned back to the TV to look at a nubile girl in a Queens Park Rangers kit performing a cheesy dance routine to Jean Knight’s
Mr. Big Stuff
with the show’s presenter while groups of beer-bellied lads cheered them on.

‘Go on boss, make us a brew eh?’

Steve went into the kitchen and returned with a teapot and a couple of mugs.

‘Nice one,’ said Bobby. ‘So how did you get on last night after me and Helen left?’

‘Well, let’s see… apart from bumpin’ into the
Belfast
girl who broke my heart and re-enactin’ the sex scene from Quadrophenia, bit of a quiet one, really.’

Bobby turned the volume down on the TV.

‘You’re kiddin’ me, yeah?’

‘Nope.’

‘For fuck’s sake boss, spill the beans!’

Steve told Bobby all about Jeanie’s disappearance the previous summer and their steamy reunion but decided to leave out the stuff about Trevor McCann. Bobby particularly seemed to relish the details of the quickie in the
East Street
alleyway.

‘So she’s a looker then, boss?’

‘You could say that. Best lookin’ girl I’ve ever got within a mile of. Imagine Wynona Ryder with Angelina Jolie’s lips and you’re almost there.’

‘Fuckin’ ‘ell, boss. I’ll be getting the horn again if you get me thinkin’ about a knee-trembler with girl who looks like that. I’ll be on the blower to Helen to get her over for another sesh. You don’t have a photo of her, do ya?’

Steve looked sheepish.

‘I know it’s a bit pathetic, but I’ve always kept her photo in my wallet.’

He pulled the wallet out of his back pocket and handed the picture to Bobby.

‘Her hair’s grown a lot since then but she’s as gorgeous as ever.’

Steve proudly looked to see Bobby’s reaction.

‘Please say you’re just messin’ with me.’

‘Course I’m not. That’s her, I swear. Stunning eh?’

Bobby solemnly handed him back the photo.

‘I recognise her, boss. She’s quite well-known about town.’

 ‘What are ye tryin’ to say here, Bobby? I hope you’re not suggestin’ that she’s a slapper or somethin’.’

Bobby switched off the TV and looked straight at Steve.

‘No, nothing like that… look, this is a fuckin’ hard thing to tell you but you really need to know… the girl in that photo is Anthony Cubitt’s woman.’

22

‘I think we might need to put some crisis management into place here, boss.’

Bobby poured the tea out and handed one of the mugs to Steve.

‘Well it’s not like she’s goin’ to tell him, Bobby.’

‘Of course not but Brighton’s a small place… just takes one person at the Hanbury or the Fishbowl who recognises her to blab about it and it could be round the town like wildfire.’

‘Yeah but no-one else knows about what happened in the alleyway… if Cubitt hears she was seen with me she could just say that I’m an old friend or somethin’.’

Bobby sighed.

‘Look boss, we’re talking about Anthony Cubitt here… this is not a reasonable man who’ll be willing to listen to explanations about why his woman has been seen with another man… you need to get your head around this, boss… he’ll want to inflict some serious damage on you if he finds out.’

Steve bristled.

‘Look Bobby, why the fuck should I be runnin’ scared of a jumped-up arsehole like him? And never mind what he’d do to me… if he laid a hand on Jeanie over this, I’d batter the cunt, I swear.’

‘No offence boss, but you didn’t look too tough when he gave you that bone-crushing handshake the other day.’

Steve gave Bobby the finger.

‘Up yours, mate… the fucker just got me by surprise. You forget I’m from
North Belfast
… wankers like Cubitt would get eaten for breakfast by some of the hard men who are knockin’ around where I grew up.’

Bobby gave Steve a conciliatory smile.

‘Look boss, I don’t doubt that Belfast might give you a bit of added grit compared to most of the airy-fairy ponces that live around this manor but you gotta understand, Cubitt is a bona fide one-hundred-per-cent certified psycho. Don’t let the posh voice and the snazzy threads convince you otherwise.’

Steve reached for the teapot and topped up both their mugs.

‘Alright then, so what’s this crisis management you have in mind, Bobby?’

Bobby took a few sups of tea before replying.

‘Okay, maybe I was being a bit melodramatic but as they say, forewarned is forearmed. Firstly, you need to stay well clear of her from now on. Secondly, I’m usually up-to-date on the
Brighton
gossip-mill so at the first hint that Cubitt’s blowing a gasket over his woman, it’s time for you to head straight home to
Belfast
, ya dig?’

Steve shook his head.

‘No can do, mate …look, there’s stuff I’ve been keepin’ to myself since I got here. You’ve been a good friend to me from the word go so maybe now’s as good a time as any to tell you the whole fuckin’ saga …I wouldn’t usually be up for hair-of–the-dog this time of day but I really think this needs to be discussed over a pint.’

23

Over three rounds of Guinness in a quiet corner at The Cooper’s Cask, Bobby became fully au fait with Trevor and Donzo, the murder of Doug, paramilitary drug-dealing, the close-knit Belfast Mod scene and Jeanie’s misdemeanours.

‘Well I hope you feel better for telling me that ‘cos I’m not sure if I feel better for knowing it… god bless ya, boss, I think you’ve been keeping it together better than I would have.’

‘Appearances can be deceptive, Bobby. Believe you me, I’ve been feelin’ anxious as fuck and all that shite never stops whirrin’ through my head. I really miss havin’ that peace of mind when you can just switch off and appreciate the simple things… I think I’ve understood for the first time why people turn to Diazepam and shit like that… ‘

‘Well let’s just stick to booze, boss. One more round? It’s my shout.’

While Bobby was at the bar, Steve looked at all the carefree young people enjoying a Saturday afternoon drink. Practically all of them looked healthily middle-class and trendy and he reckoned that the worst trauma any of then would have been through was mummy and daddy not getting funds into their bank account quick enough for their next term at ‘Uni’.

He overheard the group at the next table loudly enthusing about Eddie Izzard’s latest
DVD
and quoting lines from it. He felt like shouting ‘shove yer smug, whimsical, self-conscious English bullshit right up yer fuckin’ holes’ but he managed to stop himself.

When Bobby brought the pints back to the table he could see the look of contempt on Steve’s face.

‘C’mon boss,’ he whispered. ‘They’re harmless enough… live and let live ‘n all’.

Steve looked slightly ashamed.

‘Yeah, you’re right. If I start losin’ sight of stuff like that I’m lettin’ bastards like Trevor and Cubitt rule the day.’

Steve clinked glasses with Bobby.

‘Cheers mate. Here’s to peace, love and understanding, eh?’

24

Back at work, the hard graft made Steve feel more upbeat. There had been no sign of Anthony Cubitt since their initial encounter and later in the week, he overheard one of the builders saying that the ‘Ace Face’ had just flown over to
Paris
and was going to be there for a week working on the new hotel project. This made Steve feel a little more at ease but there was still the nagging worry that someone might have seen him with Jeanie and blabbed about it. In particular, he worried that the girls she’d been with at the Hanbury might be embroiled with Cubitt too.