Lawless by Jessie Keane Read Free Book Online Page B

tears that spilled over and slid down her cheeks. She bit her lip so hard she almost drew blood.
    Bianca glanced behind her, seeing the mourners shuffling inside. Among them she saw a tall dark-skinned woman moving near the rear of the church, her eyes downcast.
    ‘What’s she doing here?’ asked Bianca, gulping back her tears.
    Bella looked up, saw who Bianca was staring at, said nothing.
    ‘Isn’t that Ruby Darke?’ said Bianca. ‘The woman who runs the department stores? Did she know Tito? Oh wait – wasn’t she involved with Michael Ward . . . ?’
    Bianca fell silent. Ruby Darke was also the notorious Kit Miller’s mother, and there were rumours circulating like Chinese whispers that Tito’s death could have been a revenge killing for the death of Michael Ward. That pointed to Miller, who had been Ward’s number one man. But these were merely rumours, unfounded, unsubstantiated. There was no proof, nothing positive to suggest they could be true.
    ‘I asked her to come,’ said Bella.
    Bianca’s head whipped round. She stared at her mother. ‘You what? Why?’
    ‘I have to talk to her.’
    ‘Mama, you’ve taken leave of your senses,’ said Bianca, shaking her head. ‘You know what’s being said . . .’
    ‘Yes, I know. That’s why I want to talk to her.’
    ‘But—’
    ‘Hush! Show some respect,’ said Bella, her tone sharpening. She looked back. ‘Ah, dear God, my boy, my poor boy . . .’
    They were bringing in the coffin. The music swelled, the priest came forward in his ceremonial robes. Bianca, Bella and Maria rose to their feet along with the rest of the congregation as the pall-bearers came up the aisle, carrying their sad burden. Bianca felt her mother sway and she grasped her arm, held her steady. She felt as if her heart was being ripped, still beating, from her chest.
    Ah, Tito . . .
    She thought of Tito cuddling her in his arms when she was small, kissing her forehead, murmuring words of comfort. He’d taught her so much, shared the ways of the Camorra with her. Her big brother, she’d loved him so. It crucified her that he had died, a man in his prime, with no wife, no children, to lament his passing.
    Bianca watched the grim procession of pall-bearers pass by with the coffin. Vittore was there, giving solid support at the front, with the slighter Fabio immediately behind him, smartened up in a black suit, his almost girlishly good-looking face and hands marred by scratches and cuts. The mahogany coffin was covered in a luxuriant mass of red hothouse roses formed into the shape of a cross. The men moved slowly, placing their burden carefully on the dais while the priest looked on.
    For Bianca the whole thing was torture. It was all she could do to watch as the coffin was sprinkled with holy water and then it was incensed. Prayers were said for Tito’s soul and the choir sang ‘On Eagle’s Wings’. Then came the funeral Mass and absolution, with candles lit around the coffin.
    And then they were all outside in the biting wind, gathered around the freshly dug grave. The elderly priest intoned his words of conclusion: ‘May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace.’
    At last, it was over.
    Having kept a tight grip on her mother throughout, Bianca could feel Bella trembling, shuddering with sobs. To bury one’s own child must be agony. The crowds of mourners began to disperse, leaving only close family by the graveside. Then Bianca saw Ruby Darke again, standing alone some distance away from their silent little group.
    ‘What the fuck’s she doing here?’ asked Fabio.
    Bella stepped forward and slapped her youngest son’s face. ‘Shut up! You are in a place of worship, standing at your brother’s grave,’ she snapped.
    Maria’s eyes met Bianca’s. Maria was mouse-like in the presence of her forceful mother-in-law. Bianca felt almost sorry for her sometimes, when she wasn’t feeling scornful over Maria’s lack of