Coleman felt his feet sink into the shagpile carpet as he looked around. Cheyne Walk was one of the most expensive streets off the Kings Road, and this basement bachelor pad was the first place he had seen. It had a kitchen, a bedroom, bathroom and a sunken area in the living room with plush cream leatherette seating built into the shagpile. It was fully furnished with all mod cons, a television and a trouser press.

‘Everything a gentleman like you might need,’ the girl from the estate agency said. Then parted her blouse with the tip of her nail and said, ‘Well, almost everything.’ He smiled, curtly, and she dropped her hand and picked up her notes. ‘Although it’s not cheap.’

‘Not a problem,’ he said. Coleman never considered getting his own place before and felt curiously disloyal to Chevron to be considering it, even now. However, he couldn’t continue to entertain Lara in his office and the idea of booking a hotel room with a girl like that was out of the question.

‘Yeah. I like it,’ he said. ‘How much is it?’

‘Too much!’ Lara was coming down the steps of the basement and heard him through the open door.

‘Excuse me?’ Tamara asked in a tight squeal.

‘It’s OK,’ Coleman said, ‘she’s with me.’

Then he looked at Lara, his eyes slightly quizzical, as if looking for reassurance.

‘Arthur told me where you were and I rushed down before you did anything rash.’ She placed her hand on Coleman’s arm, marking her territory then looked Tamara up and down. She got the measure of her predator. Money or sex – both if she could manage it.

‘Could you give us a moment please?’

‘Sure,’ Tamara said. She knew it was over before it had begun. Wives and girlfriends always wanted two bedrooms.

‘There’s no need to do this,’ she said. ‘The rent would cost a fortune. I hope it’s not for my benefit?’

‘Of course not,’ he said, a small humiliation smarting through his cheeks.

‘Although,’ aware she may have hurt him, ‘it would be nice to have some space together. We could book into a hotel?’

He smiled. It looked unfamiliar, therefore silly but, to Lara, glorious.

‘I didn’t think you were that kind of girl.’

‘Well clearly I am,’ she said.

Tamara looked at her watch. She had been trying to listen in, and now wished she hadn’t.

‘Anyway, I’m a grown man, I need my own place.’

‘We have my place.’

‘And you have Noreen,’ he said.

Lara looked around.

‘You don’t want this place, Coleman. It’s tacky and poky and I’m sure,’ she looked at Tamara, ‘overpriced.’

‘But what about…?’

He stopped short of saying ‘us’. He didn’t want to presume.

‘Why don’t we see where we are in a month’s time and maybe then we can…?’

She stopped short of saying ‘find somewhere together’. But only because Tamara was rattling her keys at the front door.

When they reached the corner of Cheyne Walk and the Kings Road, they kissed. It was a soft lingering kiss, not a precursor to lovemaking, but an expression of everyday intimacy. Lara headed up to That Girl but Coleman was too wired to go back to the club. As he walked away his head was full of what she had said. One month. It was a trial, a test, but he didn’t care. It was what he wanted. To love and to be loved. In his thirties, to share his life with somebody. Ordinary love. The thing that most people felt entitled to, but not him. Coleman always thought that love was beyond him. Lara was not simply the woman he loved. In returning that love, she was a gift. A miracle. He needed some time alone to take it all in, so Coleman decided to run some messages in town.

First, Savile Row. Standing in front of the mirror in the oak-lined dressing room of his tailor, Sid’s, studio he pressed down the front of a blue worsted pinstripe and said, ‘My girlfriend will like this one.’ He forced the words out awkwardly. It was the first time he talked about Lara to anybody. He was still pinching himself and wanted to tell somebody about the relationship to make it real.

Sid replied, ‘She’s got good taste then.’

‘I don’t know about that, but she likes her fashion.’

‘Don’t all the girls?’ Sid said, smiling.

‘She’s not all the girls,’ Coleman wanted to say. ‘She’s the only girl.’

On the way back from Piccadilly, he picked up his Karmann Ghia from the garage where it had been for servicing. He would make Lara take the weekend off and drive her down to Brighton. They could stay at The Grand and walk along the front. They would eat fish and chips on the pier. His stomach was in knots of excitement just thinking about the life they were going to have together.

Although it was going to mean making some changes in his lifestyle, and he was going to have to tackle Bobby about the shop.

❊

With every step she took back up the Kings Road towards That Girl, Lara felt her life fall more firmly into place. Her career was on the point of taking off. Vogue loved the pictures Alex took of Annie and offered him a commission. They were sending their fashion editor to look at her new collection and it looked as if they were considering featuring That Girl alongside a small profile on her. In seeing Matthew again, Lara had finally put the pain of her past to rest, and now, her love life had taken an unexpected but perfect turn. She was in love. Unlike the inevitable, brotherly closeness that she had with Matthew, this love was passionate and gut wrenching but no less certain.

It seemed extraordinary that everything in life she had wanted, and failed so spectacularly to have with her childhood sweetheart Matthew: the creative collaboration, the living a free life in London, was now about to happen with this Englishman. Extraordinary and unexpected, but wonderful.

Her mood dipped when she opened the door of That Girl. The place was a mess. At the door was a half-opened box of stock, which she had specifically told Handsome to unpack and hang immediately just before she left an hour ago.

Worse, the shop looked empty of staff. She looked around and saw Handsome preening himself at the dressing room mirror. Squinting at his reflection and smoothing his Beatles fringe into shape, with a cigarette dropping from his lush lips. Lara was furious. She felt a snap of irritation at Noreen, too, for passing her on such a dud.

‘Why are those boxes still at the door? I asked you to unpack and hang up that menswear delivery while I was gone.’

She also hated calling him Handsome. He had, on his first day, reluctantly informed her that his first name was Hillary; she felt she couldn’t call him that either.

‘I was just going to get round to it when I was finished here.’

It was then she noticed that he had changed his outfit.

‘Is that from the new stock?’

‘Yeah,’ he said, patting the collar. ‘What d’ya think?’

‘You took that jacket out of the box and didn’t unload the rest.’

‘Thought I’d try it on – to model it, like.’

She looked behind him into the changing room and saw myriad items from the box strewn around the chairs and floor.

‘Who was minding the shop when you were playing dress up?’

A nasty look sliced across his face then was replaced by his usual nonchalance. Lara noted he wasn’t entirely sure she was being sarcastic. Not even bright enough to pick that up.

‘There weren’t any customers in.’

‘And if a customer had come in?’

‘Well they would have rung the bell, wouldn’t they? Then I would’ve come out.’

‘But that would have meant walking right through the shop and going up to the counter. With no staff here, they might have left or stolen something.’

Handsome shrugged and continued preening. Half ignoring her, as if she was annoying him.

Lara was incensed. Being short staffed was better than this.

‘I don’t think this is going to work out,’ she said. Seeing the look of vague confusion as he turned around and saw her still there, she added firmly, ‘You’re fired.’

‘What?’ he said, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth.

‘I said you’re fired.’

‘You can’t do that!’

‘I can,’ Lara said, ‘and I am.’ Her heart was thumping. She had never fired anyone before. But there was something else, something nasty in his tone.

‘Why?’

She let out a disbelieving laugh then shook her head.

‘Look, Handsome, it’s just not working out, alright?’

‘Well, I ain’t going.’

That, she had not been expecting.

‘This is my shop and I am asking you to leave. Nicely. Right now. I will pay you until the end of the week and—’

‘But it ain’t your shop is it? It’s Bobby’s.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

She heard him all right.

‘Chevron’s. Bobby owns this shop. It ain’t yours. You just work for him. Like Coleman.’

She knew she shouldn’t question him. He was a nasty bit of work. An idiot, who had probably got the wrong end of the stick. Lara knew she should just ignore him but there was something in his tone that rang true.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Coleman acts the big man, like it’s his business, like he owns Chevrons but, at the end of the day, Bobby don’t give nothing away.’

‘Mr Chevron is a shareholder in my business. But this my shop.’

Handsome laughed. He didn’t look stupid now.

‘Chevron don’t do sharing. Everyone knows that. Not even with his precious Coleman, I can guarantee you that.’ He threw his cigarette on the dressing room floor and stamped it into the carpet. ‘You get Bobby Chevron down here to sack me.’

Then, the good-looking boy turned towards the mirror and continued fixing his hair as if she wasn’t there.

Lara didn’t know what to do. She felt sick. She was angry, of course, but the greater part of her was afraid of what he might do. She could not take him out physically so there was only one thing for it. She would have to leave him there and run up to the club and get Coleman, and maybe even Arthur, to sort him out. As she closed the door behind her Lara’s gut tightened as she wondered if Handsome could have been telling the truth. Was this Chevron’s shop? The thought of that sickened her but at the same time there was a ring of truth to it.

Could all of this be just one big lie? If that was the case it would mean that Coleman had betrayed her.

❊

Coleman skipped down the stairs of Chevrons. If the floors had not been carpeted he would have slid on his leather-soled shoes to his office like Fred Astaire.

When he opened the door he didn’t even want to sit down. He put his feet up on the desk and leaned back. He felt like a king and now he had a queen. There was a bang on the door and Arthur came in, locking the door behind him. He looked shaky and paler than usual. There was something wrong, but the day Coleman was having he could fix anything.

‘What’s up my old mate? Whoah!’

Arthur had pulled a Walther PP gun on him, and it was pointing straight at his face. Coleman raised his hands, ‘Easy, easy, mate.’

Arthur pulled his face back from a strained grimace. His hands were shaking and his eyes were darting left to right. Coleman tried to lock them down.

‘What the fuck is going on, Arthur?’

‘Don’t move,’ he shouted. His finger was lost over the trigger. Arthur wasn’t used to guns and the Walther was an automatic. It could go off by accident.

‘OK, OK,’ he said, raising his hands higher.

‘Talk to me, mate. What’s going on?’

A bead of sweat fell down over Arthur’s eye and he blinked it away. Coleman kept his eyes glued to the Walther. Arthur fought with his fist and whatever came to hand. A gun was a cold-blooded way to kill someone and he wasn’t that type. He was a hard man with a short temper. When Arthur lost it, anything could happen. The rest of the time, he was a pussy cat. When Coleman found out who sold Arthur the weapon, he would shoot them with it. But first he had to find out why he was pointing it at him.

‘Arthur,’ he tried again. ‘What’s going on?’

There was a knock on the door. Arthur’s head turned and Coleman flinched.

The handle turned.

‘It’s Lara. I need to ask you something.’

Arthur glared at him, wide-eyed, panicked. He nodded and hissed, ‘Get rid of her.’

‘Not a good time,’ Coleman called out, trying to keep his voice firm.

‘It’s important,’ she said, trying the door again.

‘Please,’ he tried to keep the pleading whinge out of his voice but at the same time send her a message that he did not mean to reject her. It didn’t work. He had a gun pointing at him so his voice came out firm and angry. ‘I’m serious, Lara. Now is not a good time, alright? Come back in an hour. Please.’

She banged the door with her fist in temper and Coleman heard the muffle of a demure curse as she walked away. He sighed with relief. He didn’t know if he would still be here in an hour, but at least she would be.

‘Just stay still and stop talking,’ Arthur hissed.

‘Alright, alright. I won’t move. Just tell me where this is coming from.’

Arthur’s sweat turned to a trickle and, as he lifted his right elbow to put his face to his shoulder and wipe it off…

BANG!

‘Shit, shit, shit…’

Coleman ducked.

BANG. BANG. BANG! A splatter of blood on the parquet floor.

‘SHIT! My foot!’

Noreen started banging on the door.

‘Is everything alright in there?’

The room was soundproofed but the gunshots sounded as a set of muted thuds that were unmistakable.

‘Will I call the police?’

Noreen had no intention of calling the police. She just wanted Coleman to open the door so she could see what was going on.

‘Jesus Christ…’ Coleman went to the door and opened it an inch.

‘No, Noreen,’ he said. ‘There’s just been – an accident.’

‘Lara’s here she said…’

Arthur groaned from behind the door and Noreen strained her head to look in.

‘Is that Arthur? Is he alright?’

‘He’s fine.’

Another groan from Arthur.

‘Tell Lara to call back later.’

He shut the door, and picked the Walther up from the ground where Arthur had dropped it. He carefully emptied the cartridge and put it into his jacket pocket then put the gun on his desk. Coleman felt the adrenalin drain out of his body and his mind fill up on a cocktail of curiosity and anger.

‘What the fuck was that, Arthur?’

‘I think I’ve shot myself.’ He was trying not to cry.

Coleman knelt down and had a look at the floor – two bullet holes on the floor – God knows where the other two landed. A small pool of blood was gathering at Arthur’s foot and the top was torn off his shoe. The bleeding was slow, so at worst he’d taken the edge off a toe.

‘Hurts like hell,’ he whimpered.

When he lost it, Arthur could drink the blood of a man, but the rest of the time a paper cut made him queasy. That was why his actions were so infuriatingly puzzling. Arthur needed a reason to get riled up and Coleman, as far as he knew, had never given him one.

Coleman took the gun down from his desk and held it to Arthur’s neck.

‘This will hurt a lot more if you don’t start talking.’

‘Oh, Coleman mate – you wouldn’t.’

‘I bloody would and I will if you don’t tell me what’s going on.’

‘You can’t shoot me. Look at me. I’m hurt. Coleman, please, this is Arthur – your oldest mate.’

Coleman could have shot him just for begging. The gun wasn’t even loaded. He knew Arthur. He could go on like that all night. Coleman had never killed a man. He had never had to. Half an hour ago he would have certainly said he could never hurt Arthur. But the fucker had nearly killed him – even if it had been by accident. Coleman had smelt death once or twice before and he hadn’t liked it. But today. No. Today was not a good day to die.

Coleman pushed the gun into his friend’s neck and started counting.

‘Ten, nine…’

‘Jesus, Coleman, you wouldn’t…’

‘Eight, five… I never could count… three…’

‘Alright, alright. Bobby’s got a hit out on you.’

That was a shock.

‘Bobby?’

‘Yes.’

Coleman stopped himself from saying ‘Are you sure?’

They both knew Bobby. It wasn’t the sort of thing Arthur could make up.

‘Can you move the gun away now please, that trigger has a delicate…’

Coleman threw the gun roughly down on the floor and Arthur flinched, then realised it wasn’t loaded. He felt pleased about that, although he was in so much trouble, it might have been better if Coleman had shot him.

‘Why?’

‘Something to do with some clobber from the shop you promised Maureen.’

‘What? He’s having me killed over a few fucking dresses?’

He shrugged. ‘And some other stuff.’

Arthur looked across at him pitifully, apologetically.

He was broken by the betrayal. Too broken to apologise and, in any case, for what? Bobby was the boss and Arthur did what he was told. Now Arthur had failed both of them.

‘What other stuff?’

‘He said you was robbing the bar with Brian.’

‘I told him it was Shirley!’

‘I said that too, but he didn’t believe it was her. He said you set her up. That it was you all along.’

‘And you believed him?’

‘I dunno.’

Arthur looked away. He wasn’t the brightest and when it came to women, he was always inclined to take their side. As, in fairness, was Coleman. He had been as shocked by Shirley’s betrayal as anyone and now, it seems, she had set him up with Chevron. That Chevron was willing to sacrifice his ‘boy’ was a blow, but not entirely a surprise.

‘He said you’d been slagging me off to him. He said you told him I was more of a hind… hind…’

‘Hindrance?’

‘Yeah. That in the club, he said you told him I was too soft with the girls. That I was a useless piece of shit. Good for nothing and that you was going to sack me.’

Coleman’s jaw set and he shifted his neck from side to side. That was an outright lie. He wasn’t angry about Shirley setting him up – a woman scorned and all that. Even Chevron wanting him dead made a sort of morbid sense to him. Bobby gave him a life, of sorts, now he was taking it away. But lying to Arthur? That was low.

‘Did you believe that?’

Arthur shrugged. Arthur loved Coleman and, as much as Coleman was capable of it, he loved Arthur too. They were like brothers. Bobby had brought them together so he knew how to tear them apart.

‘He said you told him I’d always been the weak one. The stupid one. He says you told him you wanted the club all to yourself, and that you wanted to get rid of me. He said he was defending my honour as well as his business.’

‘And you believed him?’

Arthur looked away.

‘Maybe. I know I’m a bit soft on the girls and… well. Fucks sake – look at me. I just shot my own foot! He said he’d put me in charge of the club.’

‘Do you think he would have?’

Arthur’s face set into a defensive tightness.

‘I dunno. Maybe. Probably not.’

‘You know I never said that about you? Any of it.’

Arthur looked at him sheepishly, then after studying his friend’s face for a moment, he smiled broadly.

‘Yeah. You know I’m useful.’

Coleman punched his arm playfully.

‘Not useful enough to see me off though.’

‘And I shot my own foot. Fuck me but it hurts.’

‘I’ll get Noreen to come in and kiss it better for you will I?’

Arthur blushed. Then tried to stand up, yelped and flopped back down again.

‘Fuck me, Coleman. What are we going to do?’

‘How long have we got?’

‘I told him I’d do you by tonight. While the club was quiet, like. He said he’d arrange some muscle to help me get rid of your…’ It seemed rude to say body.

‘Who?’

Coleman was generally well liked. He and Arthur knew that Bobby would find it hard to involve one of his hired hands in this. He could manipulate Arthur because love could be easily turned. Respect was different. Any of the heavies or henchmen they knew would have come straight to Coleman and told him Bobby had the hits out. Several of them had approached Coleman in the past about bringing Bobby down. That was what cut him deep about this hit. His own stupid loyalty. The thing was, Coleman did not want to take out Bobby or even take his business from him.

He didn’t want a part of this any more. He wanted no part of Bobby Chevron’s world. He just wanted a normal life now. To be with Lara and help her run her business.

‘I dunno,’ Arthur said.

‘What did he tell you to do?’

‘He said I was to ring him straight away from the office phone. He said he’d have someone here in ten minutes. That they was very discreet and very effective.’

‘He didn’t say who?’

Arthur shook his head and ran through some names.

‘Not Frankie Nee, anyway.’

‘Johnny “Hippo” Johnson?’

‘You’re joking – he hates Bobby.’

‘What about Alexie Smith?’

‘Nah.’

‘Fingers Malone?’

‘Nah.’

‘Joey Brennan? Dave Wedgie? Bertie Lazlo?’

‘Nah, nah. I can’t think of anyone, honestly, Coleman. Who would take you out?’

Then as an afterthought, Arthur remembered himself and said, ‘I’m sorry, mate.’

‘Forget it.’ Coleman waved his apology off. That was ancient history now. It seemed like Bobby was bluffing, but something just didn’t sit right.

‘He’s got no one on side?’

‘Bobby has pissed off all the muscle, Coleman. Think about it. And now he’s over in Spain – he’s not even here to do his own dirty work any more.’

Then Arthur had a revelation.

‘I think he’s bluffing, Coleman. I don’t think he’s got no one, except us. We could have him. We could take him out. We could have it all.’

Coleman shook his head. Even if Bobby wasn’t popular, he was still a nutter. If Bobby had one person on his side, they would have to find him and take him out first. Then they would have to take Bobby out. And that would not be easy. Not with him being in Spain, and not with him being such a manipulative bastard, either. In any case, Coleman wasn’t a killer and Arthur, as he had proven, didn’t do cold blood.

‘He must have someone, Arthur. Otherwise he wouldn’t have put the hit out. He knows you couldn’t get rid of a body on your own and leave it hanging around the club. He must have somebody and it has to be someone close. Someone who he can get here at a moment’s notice.’

‘It’s got to be someone that don’t like you, don’t have no respect, and I can’t think of anyone unless…?’

Coleman had exactly the same thought and they both said in unison,

‘Handsome Devers.’

‘Come to think of it – I haven’t seen him for a while,’ Coleman said.

‘Noreen gave him the heave-ho. Thank God. Said he was going to work in the shop with Lara.’

Handsome in the club with Arthur and the lads keeping an eye on him was one thing. In a ladies’ clothes shop surrounded by women was another. Especially when one of them was his girl. Coleman opened the door and shouted for Noreen.

She ran in and, seeing the small pool of blood on the floor, immediately ran to Arthur.

‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph!’ she shouted. ‘He’s been SHOT!’

‘Where’s Lara? She was here a few minutes ago.’

‘I knew I heard a gun…’

Noreen was struggling to keep the note of delighted drama out of her voice.

‘Noreen, this is important.’

‘I think she’s gone back to the shop to get rid of Handsome. She tried to sack him earlier and he refused to leave.’

Coleman picked up the Walther and the cartridge from his desk as Noreen continued.

‘I told her I’d come and get Arthur but now – look at him he’s…’

She looked up but Coleman had already left.