Frankie's Manor Read online

  A few men, arrogant in their familiarity, slapped the broad back, saying cheerfully, ‘Welcome back, Mr Buchannon.’

  ‘Hello, Frankie, me old mate, when did you get out?’

  ‘How are yer, Frank? Good ter see yer back.’

  ‘Would yer like a drink, Mr Buchannon, sir?’

  Frankie Buchannon strode on, acknowledging a man or woman here and there with a curt nod, like a king bestowing a greeting on his subjects. Then his features broke into a wide smile, which transformed his moody countenance to reveal a strikingly handsome man. He stopped in front of a dumbfounded Rose and gazed down fondly at her. ‘Hello, Princess, pleased to see me, are you?’

  Rose could only stand and stare, open-mouthed, at the tall man leaning over her, then, a wide grin splitting her face she cried, ‘Frankie! I thought you weren’t coming out until next August. What happened? Why didn’t you let me know? Ooh, Frankie… Oh, it is good to see you.’ Gabbling excitedly, she grabbed hold of the outstretched hands, her blue eyes fixed on his face. ‘And why didn’t you answer any of my letters? I thought you’d forgotten about me.’

  Frankie gripped the slender hands, his eyes tender. ‘You know I ain’t one for writing, Princess – but forget you? Never! Never in a million years,’ he said softly. Then, aware of prying eyes and cocked ears, he added, ‘Look, let’s find a table where we can talk,’ and his hands pulled at hers as he tried to guide her further back into the pub where they could have some privacy. Reluctantly she shook her head. ‘I’d love to, Frankie, honestly, you know I would, but Aunt Mary will be waiting for me to get home, and I don’t want her worrying.’ The disappointment on her face mirrored that on his own, but with a regretful sigh he let her go. ‘Well at least have a drink with me… Just a quick one, I promise,’ he pleaded, the beseeching look in his dark brown eyes rapidly melting her resolve.

  ‘All right, Frankie, but I’m not sitting down. I don’t want to get too comfortable,’ she said, knowing from past experience how persuasive he could be. At any other time she would have been more than happy to spend some time with this man, but her aunt would be waiting for her at home and, as fond as Rose was of Frankie, her aunt Mary came first. ‘I’ll have a quick drink at the bar with you, then I’ll be off. You do understand, don’t you?’ The last words were uttered in the form of a command, rather than an apology, and Frankie, looking down into the wide blue eyes, smiled ruefully.

  ‘Yeah, I understand, Princess.’ His broad arm came to rest familiarly around her shoulders as he led her towards the bar. ‘I don’t like the idea of Mary being on her own any more than you do – though she wouldn’t thank me for saying it, the stubborn old cow.’ The last words were spoken with affection, and that in itself was rare for there weren’t many people whom Frankie Buchannon held in high esteem.

  Still holding Rose close to his side, Frank leaned one elbow on the bar, his foot resting on the brass rail, his baleful companions keeping the other patrons at arm’s length. Rose fell silent, her body resting against Frank’s in complete harmony, her contentment marred only by the presence of the strong-arm contingent that always seemed to accompany him. A slight tremor of misgiving ran through her, which she instantly dismissed. There was a lot she didn’t like about the way Frankie ran his life, but the essence of her feelings for him remained the same, and always would.

  She had known Frankie Buchannon most of her life and looked upon him as a member of her small family. And as such, any disquieting thoughts that threatened to impair her feelings for him had always been swiftly crushed, as they were now. Glancing up sideways into the merry brown eyes, she was struck by how kind they were, and wondered, not for the first time, how anyone could be frightened of this man. Oh, she wasn’t a complete fool: she knew he had his hand in a number of shady enterprises, and was well aware that his money didn’t come from honest graft. She smiled wryly. Considering he had just come out of prison for the umpteenth time, only a complete imbecile would remain blind to the nature of his work, and she was neither stupid, nor blind, but it would be true to say that her vision was blinkered where Frankie Buchannon was concerned.

  Thoughts of protection rackets and sweatshops crept into Rose’s mind and, just as quickly, were gone. There was only one Frankie Buchannon she knew, and that man was kind and protective. The other Frankie was pushed back into the dark recesses of her mind, the part that protected her from knowledge that would surely erode her love and loyalty for the man who had looked out for her from the moment when, as a small child, he had held her in his arms for the first time.

  Taking a large gulp of the gin and orange he had bought for her she nudged him sharply in the ribs. ‘Well, come on, then. Aren’t you going to tell me how you got released so early? I thought I was seeing things when you walked through the door.’

  With one arm still snaked around her waist, Frankie inclined his dark head and answered, with a smile and a broad wink, ‘I was innocent, wasn’t I? I told you that all along… ’Ere!’ He pulled back from her, his eyes expressing mock horror. ‘Don’t say you didn’t believe me, Princess?’

  Rose shook her head, laughing. According to Frank, he was as innocent as a newborn babe. Then, suddenly conscious of time slipping away, she finished her drink and said, ‘Look, Frank, I’ll have to go. Aunt Mary will be—’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I know. Hang on a minute and I’ll walk you out.’ Draining his glass, he threw a couple of florins across the bar. ‘Cheers, Rita, have one for yourself, darling.’ He gave Rita a broad wink and was about to turn away when he spotted the landlord coming out from one of the rooms at the back.

  Henry Dixon saw Frankie at the same time, and couldn’t hide the look of alarm that crossed his swarthy face.

  Relishing the other man’s obvious discomfort, Frankie cried, ‘Well, well, if it ain’t me old mate Henry. How you doing, me old son? Still watering the beer, are you? Gawd help us, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Ain’t you pleased to see me, mate?’

  Dixon stood stock still, the shock at seeing Frankie Buchannon standing in his pub momentarily rendering him speechless. Then his eyes flickered to the young woman Buchannon held so possessively, and his stomach lurched in fear. The harsh words he had so recently spoken to Rose now came back to haunt him.

  Dixon was no coward, and in his life there had been few people who could frighten him, but Frankie Buchannon was different. The man was dangerous, ruthless to those who had the misfortune to upset or annoy him, and he, Henry Dixon, a man who should have known better, had committed the unforgivable. He had unintentionally upset someone dear to Buchannon’s heart. You stupid, bleeding bastard, he cursed himself mentally. What the bloody hell did you think you was playing at, talking to Rosie like that, when you knew how Buchannon felt about her? But he had imagined Buchannon to be safely locked up behind bars, and in his eagerness to attract more custom he had put himself in grave danger.

  Swallowing hard, he put out his hand in a gesture of welcome. ‘Hello, Frankie. I didn’t expect to see you for some time yet. How d’yer manage to get out so early?’ His hand was left hovering in mid-air for a few embarrassing moments, the ambiguous gesture drawing unwelcome attention from the eagle-eyed punters at the bar. A few, less audacious than their companions, began to shuffle away from the bar, not wanting to stay around in case there was trouble. Then Frankie’s hand shot out, clasped Henry’s warmly, and an audible sigh of relief escaped the lips of all present. Repeating what he had told Rose, Frankie said, ‘I was innocent, wasn’t I?’ His eyebrows rose in mock indignation. ‘Me lawyer says I can sue the coppers for false imprisonment, but I don’t think I’ll bother. It was worth it just to see their faces when they had to let me out.’

  ‘Frankie! I’ll have to go,’ Rose extricated herself from the tight hold.

  Frank looked at her benevolently. ‘Sorry, Princess.’ Taking her arm he paused once more and, turning back to Henry, said laughingly, ‘I hope you’ve been taking care of me girl while I was away, Henry.’ Before the startled
man could answer, Frankie pulled Rose close, adding to her, ‘He has, ain’t he, Princess? He ain’t been taking liberties with you, has he?’ Then he threw back his head and laughed uproariously at what he deemed a preposterous notion.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Frank,’ Rose said, glancing over at her employer and smiling. ‘Mr Dixon has always been the perfect gentleman. Now, please, if you’re going to walk me out, get a move on, or you’ll have Aunt Mary after you for making me late.’

  Rose had barely gone two steps from the bar when she was rudely shoved to one side and there was Sally, painted face wreathed in smiles, provocative body planted firmly in front of the celebrated customer. ‘Frankie! Gawd help us, I thought they’d locked you up and thrown away the key. You ain’t gone and tunnelled your way out of the nick, have you?’ Ignoring Rose, she grabbed Frank’s arm and laid her face against his shoulder. ‘Here, let me show you to a table. They was all taken, but I’m sure one’ll be free any minute now.’ She tilted her chin up to the handsome face and winked. ‘If you know what I mean.’

  Frankie stared down into the attractive face, a face that had often lain on a pillow next to his but which had long since lost its appeal for him. He felt a strong urge to fling her violently away from him, but he restrained the impulse. Not out of any chivalrous sentiment, but because Rose was present. It was absurd, he told himself. Here he was, Frankie Buchannon, a name that could send shivers of fear through many a man, yet this woman, Rose Kennedy, could see no wrong in him. And it was terribly important to Frankie that Rose’s good opinion of him remained unchanged. Bearing this in mind, he smiled tightly and said to the hovering Sally, ‘Thanks, Sal, but I think I can manage to get a table for meself.’

  Unperturbed, Sally clung even tighter to the man she still regarded as her property, even though it had been over a year since he had last shown any interest in her. Stroking the front of his chest, she whispered huskily, ‘D’yer fancy stopping by me place later, Frankie? You know, for old times’ sake.’

  Impatient with the cloying attention, Frank tugged his arm free, saying drily, ‘No, thanks, Sal. I don’t like queuing.’

  This remark was greeted with loud guffaws from all within earshot, and Rose, embarrassed for Sally, looked away from a face that had turned pale beneath the mask of powder and rouge. The smile on the older woman’s painted lips faltered for a few seconds, then, she said nonchalantly, ‘Suit yerself, Frankie, your loss, not mine,’ before she turned and engaged a young docker in banter, her shrill laugh echoing falsely in the air.

  Rose felt a wave of pity as she hastily left the pub. She didn’t like Sally, and she knew that the feeling was mutual, but even so she didn’t like seeing her hurt.

  Seeing Rose leave the pub, Frankie detached himself from his henchmen and hurried after her. Out on the street he caught her arm. ‘Hang on, Princess, I thought you was gonna wait for me. What’s the matter?’

  Rose stared up at him, her eyes accusing. ‘That was cruel, Frankie. I know you’re not interested in Sally any more, but there was no need to talk to her like that, especially in front of a crowd.’

  Frankie looked away, his teeth worrying his bottom lip as he sought for the right words to appease Rose. He didn’t want to fall out with her, especially not over a slag like Sally. Adopting a contrite manner, he said sheepishly, ‘Yeah, you’re right, love. Tell you what, when I go back in I’ll apologise and buy her a drink. How about that?’

  He had no intention of doing any such thing, but Rose brightened immediately. ‘Well, make sure you do.’

  Eager to change the subject, Frankie asked, ‘How’s Mary these days? Her legs any better, or are they still playing her up?’

  At the mention of her aunt, Rose felt a growing surge of anxiety to get home and began to back away. ‘About the same. Look, Frank, I’ve got to go. And, Frank… instead of just asking after her, you should go round and visit. You know how much she thinks of you, and how she’s been worrying ever since you went inside. The least you can do is go and see her, and set her mind at rest.’ She had been about to add, ‘You owe her that much,’ but her aunt wouldn’t thank her for pointing out Frankie’s obligations. Nor would she want him coming to see her merely out of a sense of duty – or, worse still, guilt.

  His head drooping, Frankie shrugged. Then, he said, ‘Yeah, you’re right, Princess. I’ll get round as soon as I can, I promise.’

  Satisfied that she had stirred his conscience, Rose smiled. ‘Thanks, Frank. I’ll be seeing you soon, then. ’Bye… And, Frank…’ Her face seemed to melt with emotion as she added, almost shyly, ‘I’m glad you’re back home. I missed you.’ With a cheery wave she walked off into the balmy twilight.

  Frankie watched the slim figure hurrying down the narrow street, his eyes thoughtful. He went back inside the pub and called one of his men to his side. ‘See she gets home safely,’ he said.

  There was no need to explain further. With a deferential nod, the man answered, ‘Righto, Mr Buchannon.’

  Seated comfortably at a table at the back of the pub, Frankie pondered over the last five months. It had cost him plenty to get himself released. Coppers, lawyers and other minor servants of the law had had their palms greased, and that money would have to be replaced. He glanced at the bar, to where Henry Dixon was busy serving drinks. Dixon was about the only landlord round these parts who didn’t pay him protection money, and that was only because Rose worked for him. Still, she wouldn’t always be working here, and when that day came, Henry Dixon would receive a visit. A very expensive visit.

  Chapter Two

  Coming out of the chip shop, Rose hugged the steaming paper parcel to her chest, breathing in the appetising aroma. Lord, she was hungry. She’d been working in the pub since ten o’clock that morning and was now dead on her feet. Thinking of the pub brought to mind what had occurred earlier with Dixon. She began to laugh quietly – the blooming cheek of the man! But what if she’d gone along with his wishes? Good God! She could just imagine her aunt’s reaction to seeing her niece sloping out of the house wearing a blouse or dress with half the top missing. Bad legs or no, Mary Miller would beat the living daylights out of her charge, and when she had finished, she’d go after the man responsible for putting such an idea into her head, even if she had to crawl all the way. The image created such an extraordinary picture in Rose’s mind that she had to smother her laughter, otherwise passers-by would think she was mad. Humming softly she quickened her step, anxious to get home. She couldn’t wait to see her aunt’s face when she told her Frankie was out of prison and asking after her. She’d be over the moon at the news.

  Turning the corner into a narrow side-street of small terraced houses, she was three doors from home when a cloaked figure seemed to rise from the shadows out of nowhere. Her cry of fear was quickly replaced by one of anger when she saw who it was. Her chest heaving from fright, she said angrily, ‘Bloody hell, Jack, you nearly scared the living daylights out of me, jumping out on me like that.’

  Before her visitor could answer, pounding footsteps crashed on the cobblestones behind them, then a short, stocky man, his fists bunched ready for action, stopped in his tracks when he saw who was with the woman he had been ordered to protect.

  Constable Jack Adams, his hands clasped behind his back, looked with disdain at Buchannon’s man and said disparagingly, ‘It’s all right, Perkins. You can report back to Mr Buchannon that Miss Kennedy has reached home safely.’

  Perkins, a known thief and bully boy, glared at the tall, uniformed figure, his upper lip curling back in a sneer. ‘Yeah, I’ll do just that, Constable,’ he said cockily. ‘Mr Buchannon’ll be very interested to hear how you was waiting for her – very interested indeed.’ Then, tipping his flat cap in Rose’s direction he added, ‘Good night to you, Miss,’ before he swaggered back the way he had come.

  ‘Do you have to be so nasty, Jack?’ Rose was pulling her latch-key through the letter-box. ‘The poor man was just looking out for me. There was no need for you to be so
rude to him.’

  Jack Adams stood back, perplexed and annoyed by Rose’s attitude. ‘If you’d let me meet you and walk you home after you finished work there wouldn’t be any need for anyone else to look out for you. Anybody would think you were ashamed of me, the way you carry on. You don’t even like me coming in for a drink when I’m off duty, and when I do, you act as if you barely know me. Look, Rose…’ He took her arm, then let go as he saw her expression. Lord! She was infuriating at times. In a more conciliatory tone he said, ‘I’m sorry, love. It’s just that, well, I want people to know we’re walking out together. For a start it would stop other lads from giving you any aggravation and—’

  ‘I can look after myself, Jack. And I’ve told you before. I don’t want everyone at the pub knowing my business.’

  Jack’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into the rim of his black helmet. ‘Well, I don’t care who knows, but we’ll forget about that for a minute. Let’s talk about him.’ He jerked his head back down the street, towards where the stocky man had disappeared. ‘And the person who sent him. I’ve told you before how I feel about you mixing with the likes of Buchannon and his sort. He—’

  ‘Oh, oh, that’s a good one, Jack. And just what sort of people do you think I serve in the Red Lion? Dukes and duchesses? Anyway,’ she faced him, suddenly suspicious, ‘how did you know Frankie was out of prison? He only came out today.’

  Immediately on his guard, the uniformed man looked down at his heavy black regulation boots and said hesitantly, ‘Well… Actually, Rose, he came out nearly two weeks ago. He’s been back on this patch since his release.’