was then she’d acted like a fool. And once again he’d managed to wind her up to the point of her behaving stupidly and rashly.
It’d actually been her father she’d flown at, not the Sergeant at the door standing next to him. But her fist didn’t differentiate between the two of them. It was a genuine mistake. But a mistake which had made all hell break loose.
A wall of blue uniforms had rushed towards her. For the next ten minutes Maggie Donaldson had kicked and struggled, pushing the men away, surprising them with her force. Then she’d felt a heavy weight on her back as she was forced to the ground by a knee. She’d slammed to the ground, banging her chin on the corner of the open drawer. The blood had sprayed everyone and Maggie had felt a burning pain as her chin split open. She’d howled a deep stomach churning cry, not for the pain, but for what she knew she was about to leave behind.
Maggie stood up from the cold step, rubbing her chin to feel the small scar. A reminder of her stupidity. She should’ve known better. But her father’s mocking scorn had hurt and made her feel humiliated, which always turned into anger.
At the time it’d crossed Maggie’s mind her father had deliberately put the pills – which turned out to be ecstasy tablets – in her drawer. But when she found out the truth, she’d seen it for what it was; a series of unfortunate events which had cost her dearly.
The pills had been confiscated from one of her father’s clients, who hadn’t been able to pay his weekly instalment.
Nicky had been given the task of picking them up to sell at the clubs. Their father, counting on Nicky to come within the hour hadn’t bothered being cautious and had left the pills in the house, which he never usually would’ve done, putting them in her drawer for an hour’s safekeeping. What he hadn’t counted on was Nicky’s insatiable appetite for drugs, his need for a hit being greater than the fear of the brutal consequences of disobeying their father’s orders.
Waiting for Nicky to turn up, Max had snorted some lines of coke, cracked open a bottle of whiskey and drank himself into a stupor. He was oblivious to the fact that Nicky hadn’t turned up until he was woken the next morning by the sound of the front door being broken down.
They didn’t charge her with possession. Her father had made the pill owner claim he’d left them in her room. The police didn’t believe the story, neither did anyone else, but the judge had given the man thirteen months, and Maggie suspected the terrified man had seen being behind bars as a preferable option to owing Max Donaldson money.
Nicky had been inconsolable at playing, as he saw it, a monumental role in putting her behind bars. But when Maggie had seen him in the prison visiting room she hadn’t been angry. She’d just hugged him until the prison officers had come over, warning her if there was any more physical contact the visit would be over.
Maggie’s heart had gone out to Nicky. Not just because of the engorged black eye and the cuts and bruises he’d received from their father, but because he was a Donaldson and how Maggie saw it, being born into her family was simply part of the series of unfortunate events.
It wasn’t in the name of love her father had helped get her off the charges. She’d no doubt if it was purely down to him he’d have let her take the rap for the pills and left her to rot in the cells. The reason her father had done what he did was because it was the thing to do; the thing expected of him. Max Donaldson couldn’t have been seen not to do the right thing.
Reputation was important. It was fundamental in his line of business; to him and to the other faces in London. Reputation got them to where they were. It helped keep them there. If word had got out that Max had left his own daughter to languish between the walls of Highpoint Prison, his reputation wouldn’t even be worth the paper he wiped his backside on.
The one thing he couldn’t do though was get the charges of attacking a policeman dropped. She, as her father had gladly pointed out, was to blame and ‘There’s fuck all I can do about you smacking a copper in the mouth, Maggie. There’s nobody to blame except yourself. My advice is, pack a decent toothbrush.’
She’d got eighteen months but had served only twelve and a half. Though every second, every minute hand of the clock going round had been akin to a life sentence.
Dusting off her G-star cropped jeans, Maggie started to leave but as she turned the corner into Bateman Street, a small round woman bumped into her. It was Gina Daniels.
Throwing her newly found resolve to the side, Maggie grabbed her, pushing her hard against the wall, slamming her spine into the red bricks and letting her built-up anger spill out. She spoke in a low growl, curling her beautiful lips into a snarl.
‘Tell me what is going on Gina, or I swear to God I won’t be responsible for my actions.’
Gina stayed silent, clearly shocked by the unexpected confrontation. The silence infuriated Maggie. She wanted answers.
About to shake the information out of Gina, Maggie remembered why she’d got herself into this predicament in the first place. Her temper. Her damned fiery temper. She closed her eyes, silently beginning to count to ten. Desperate to keep the Donaldson curse under control. As she counted she felt a slight tug on her jacket then heard a tiny voice.
‘Mummy!’
Maggie turned. Immediately falling to her knees. Her anger disappeared at once as she gazed into a pair of blue eyes full of warmth and love for her.
‘Harley! Oh my God. Oh my God.’
She gently stroked her daughter’s face, not quite being able to believe after twelve and a half long months she was finally seeing her again. She hadn’t allowed her mother to bring her to the prison. She hadn’t wanted Harley to be frightened. She’d been comfortable with that decision, imagining her daughter to be well cared for. Now as she looked at Harley’s unwashed face and tangled hair she could see this clearly hadn’t been the case.
Maggie scooped Harley into her arms. She’d waited for this moment. Waited to hold her daughter in her arms. To look into the eyes which were identical to her own. She’d been so selfish, so stupid to allow her anger to separate her from being with her little girl. From the one person who needed her the most.
Maggie glared at Gina. She still wanted the full story as to how Gina Daniels, a retired brass who Maggie didn’t know well enough to leave her pet goldfish with, let alone her daughter, had ended up caring for Harley. But first things first, they needed to get off the street. The last thing Maggie could afford to do was to let anyone see Harley.
Tommy Donaldson sat in the dark. What his father had done to Frankie Taylor had made him feel edgy. Bringing up memories he didn’t want to remember. To try to distract himself he’d come to his private place, to the place where he could think.
‘Move along sweetie, I know you’d like to stay up close and personal but we’ve got to be fair darlin’ and let these other passengers on.’
Tommy watched the woman whoop a hearty laugh as she indicated for him to move forward. He hadn’t wanted to go and sit in the front, he’d been happy standing and now he was stuck, squashed up against the window by an old woman with all her shopping bags. He hated buses, all the noise and the people; he much preferred being in the car but it was parked at the station.
Gazing out of the window and very much looking forward to getting back to Soho, Tommy heard the woman who’d been ordering everyone about laughing again. She was sitting directly behind him and he could hear her trying to get his attention by making jokes but he didn’t bother to look round.
Twenty minutes later they arrived at the bus terminal and as Tommy was walking away he saw a woman from the bus who’d been talking to another passenger about heading back to the West End.