glasses, eh? You need to smash those fuckers up and see what’s going on in front of your nose.’
‘So where’s your proof then? You ain’t got any have you?’
‘If you must know I heard her on the phone earlier, telling someone not to call her. She was well agitated. She’s up to something.’
Alfie fell silent as he sat in the empty club trying to process what Vaughn was telling him. There was no way Franny would go behind his back. Mug him off. Do the dirty. No way at all. Okay, she’d taken the money but as he kept telling Vaughn, that was different. It was to save somebody’s life. He couldn’t be angry for that. And it’d been a one-off. In all the time he’d known her, over all the years, she’d never once given him reason to mistrust her. He was the one not to be trusted. Him, not her. He’d been the one who’d broken Franny’s heart with Bree. He’d also been the one who’d slept about at the beginning of their relationship and he’d been the one who’d gambled money and invested in projects without telling her. But her? Franny? No, she was loyal. Loving. Faithful … Honest. Yes, she could also be cold and hard, but that was only because of the way she’d been brought up among the gangsters and faces of London. She wouldn’t have survived or made it to the top any other way than being the way she was, which meant at times she had to be ruthless, but none of that equated to her hurting him or Vaughn, none of it spelt that she was going to betray him in any way, and it pissed him off that Vaughn thought it was okay to insinuate that. ‘Wind your neck in and shut the fuck up about Franny.’
‘I will, when you can tell me where she is, because clearly she ain’t at home. If you ask me …’
Cutting in straightaway, Alfie roared, ‘I didn’t ask you, so leave it!’
Vaughn’s eyes glinted with anger. ‘I know you didn’t, but I’m telling you anyway. She’s obviously boning someone at the same time as planning to rip us all off.’
That was it. Unable to control his temper any longer, Alfie dived over the bar, grabbing hold of Vaughn, bringing his fist hard into his face. ‘Say that again and I’ll kill you. You hear me?’
He banged Vaughn’s head against the bar but, undeterred, Vaughn fought back. His face red, his words harsh.
‘So go on then, Alf, tell me where she is. Tell me where she fucking is!’
‘Where’s who?’ Franny stood at the entrance of the club, looking at the two men. She gave a small smile to Alfie before walking up to kiss him, then turning to Vaughn, her gaze full of hatred, she said, ‘Where’s who, Vaughn? I hope you weren’t talking about me?’
‘Where’ve you been, Franny?’ Vaughn smirked as he questioned her.
Calmly, but with her heart racing, Franny answered him. ‘I’ve been at home, doing me nails.’
Alfie, having let go of Vaughn, pushed his fringe out of his eyes. ‘Told you.’
‘Let’s see then.’
Incredulously, Franny continued to glare at Vaughn, her chest tightening as she tried to keep down the panic. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Let’s see your nails.’
‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’
Slowly, Vaughn sauntered across to Franny. He grabbed her hands roughly and examined them.
‘Don’t look like you’ve been doing your nails to me.’
Locking eyes with Vaughn, Franny pulled her hands away. Her voice icy cold, she said, ‘I did my toenails. What? Are you going to pull off my shoes now to see my polish?’
Matching Franny’s animosity, Vaughn nodded. ‘If I have to.’
From behind Vaughn, Alfie stepped in. ‘Of course he’s not. Not unless he wants to go through me. Well do you? Cos I’m in the mood for a fight now.’
Turning to Alfie, Franny shook her head. ‘Alfie, don’t. He ain’t worth it. He’s got a problem with me because of what I did. I get that, but it’s stupid to fight among ourselves.’
‘How noble of you.’
Ignoring Vaughn, Franny continued to speak to Alfie. ‘I’m sorry I took so long – I wasn’t feeling so great – but I’m here now and I’m all ears.’
As Alfie went to sit down, Franny followed but was held back by Vaughn grabbing her arm. He whispered in her ear, ‘You and I both know you weren’t at home, and I’ll find out what you’re up to, Franny Doyle, and then I’m going to bring you down and watch you burn like a towering fucking inferno.’
Half an hour later, Alfie, agitated, having explained what had happened with Charlie said, ‘So that’s the bottom line, Fran, it’s a fucking mess. The last thing we want to do is fork out money to him, but at the same time, no one wants a war. This is already going to have a knock-on effect with the punters. Who’s going to want to come to a club when there’s a possibility of some fucker coming through the door with a machete?’
Taking a sip of her lemonade, Franny, not looking the best herself and having listened intently to what Alfie had been saying asked, ‘But can’t you talk to him, Alf? You’ve known him since you were kids. You two used to hang out together.’
Fighting being distracted by what Vaughn had said about her, Alfie shrugged, hating the fact that jealousy and doubt were beginning to creep over him. Everything seemed like it was out of control, and he didn’t like that feeling one little bit. ‘When we were little, and that don’t hold any weight anymore – not really. This is Charlie we’re talking about. Once he’s made up his mind, that’s it. It proper feels like we’ve been snookered. Have an all-out war with the geezer or …’
Vaughn interrupted, his gaze firmly on Franny as it had been for the last half an hour, wanting to make her feel as uncomfortable as possible. ‘You’re not thinking about actually paying him, are you? Cos that ain’t ever going to happen on my watch, Alf. This is my business as well, and I’m not handing my money over to some nonce.’
With the stress beginning to weigh heavy, Alfie slammed his fist on the bar in front of him. ‘Do I look fucking stupid? We just have to work out another agreement with him, cos he ain’t going away. If we can bring down how much he wants …’
Vaughn snapped, ‘I already told you, that’s not going to happen. Look, I think the best thing we can do is get some kip. We’ll talk tomorrow when we’re all thinking straight … Oh and, Franny, don’t forget I want to go over those accounts with you.’
Back in Soho Square, in the large, cream and gold decorated bedroom of Alfie and Franny’s townhouse, Alfie lay on the king-size bed, smiling at Franny as she got undressed. He’d decided he wasn’t going to tell her what Vaughn had been saying about her. It was stupid for him to even get wound up by it. No doubt the cocaine, useless as it was, had played a part in his paranoia. In all that was happening. The letters. The club. Franny was his constant. Beautiful and loyal, but more importantly, Franny was his, all his, and no one was going to try to tell him otherwise. But as Alfie watched Franny climb onto the bed, a sudden unease crossed over him as his gaze wandered down to her feet and he noticed her unpolished toenails.
It was just past 6am and Alfie couldn’t sleep. Hadn’t slept. Though it was less about the cocaine that ran around his veins and more about the feelings that rushed around his body.
He’d stayed awake all night watching Franny sleep fretfully, tossing and turning, and it’d taken all his willpower not to wake her up and ask her a thousand questions about the truth of where she’d actually been. More to the point, who she’d been with. Shit. Shit … He hated feeling like this. Jealousy was not something he wanted to deal with; the last time he was jealous,