The Locksmith Read online

  Dedicated to my beautiful grandchildren,

  Samantha, Mia, Emily, Alana, Mano, Lacey and Fletcher.

  In memory of Billy Blundell:

  A true friend, a true gentleman, a true legend.

  CONTENTS

  Foreword by Martina Cole

  Prologue

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Part Two

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Part Three

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Copyright

  FOREWORD BY MARTINA COLE

  As I hope some of you will know, I’ve been writing about dangerous and powerful women for a long, long time and I know how interesting they are.

  Linda Calvey is a friend of mine. A strong woman and a woman with a story. Her life reads like it’s straight from one of my books, and it’s also true. Her voice is real, and like my characters, comes from a world that few can possibly imagine. Linda is also a diamond. She sticks by what she believes and looks after her friends.

  The book you are about to read is written by someone who the British authorities considered dangerous enough to lock up for eighteen years. She grew up in the East End, knew – knows – all the faces. She was in deep with the gangsters, robbers, hit-men, gamblers and chancers who controlled the area. It was fast and glamorous and promised money; often violence and definitely power. But things took a wrong turn and she was convicted for murder and went to prison. The papers called her the Black Widow – the men in her life had a habit of turning up dead.

  If you’ve read my books, you’ll know that I’m interested in strong women, who take matters into their own hands; women who kill. When a woman writes about crime and violence, they have a different perspective on it than men. Maybe they fundamentally understand it better. They are often on the wrong end of it. Linda Calvey knows a thing or two about that, too.

  The Locksmith is a story about a family in east London. At the center of it all is Ruby, who along with her brother Bobby, are a simply a pair of straight, sweet and gobby kids from the tough part of Canning Town – until they are forced to make some hard choices. One step into the criminal underbelly of the East End, soon becomes two, and Ruby quickly discovers a natural talent for negotiating with villians and robbers. So their rise to power begins, with Ruby calling the shots. In this alternative underworld of crime, villains aren’t born, they are made.

  I loved every page of this story and I think you will too. It’s a tale that unfolds as you get to know the characters, their family and the world they inhabit. Some writers write what they know. Linda writes about what she lived, and I believe is the bravest and most authentic new voice in crime fiction.

  Martina

  PROLOGUE

  ‘Where’s the money?’ shouted the man wearing a balaclava. He marched up to Ruby and pointed his gun directly in her face. ‘Tell us and you live.’

  The tall, elegant woman turned to face him, staring down the barrel of his gun. She gave no indication of the lightning jolt of fear now coursing through her veins. Being on this side of the gun was scarier than she’d imagined.

  ‘Give them nuthin’. Open the safe and we’re all dead!’ yelled her husband Archie from the other side of the room. She caught sight of him, tied up with a gun to his head. Scanning the large lounge, she saw two masked assailants, no security guards or staff in sight. The second man, pointing his gun at Archie, slammed his fist with full force into Archie’s face, breaking his nose. The violence was shocking. She wanted to scream but she controlled the impulse. She mustn’t show fear. If there was anything she’d learned from the life she’d led, it was that.

  Blood ran down Archie’s face, splashing onto the white marble floors.

  ‘Give. Us. The. Money.’ The first man moved closer, the tip of the gun almost touching her cheek. His voice was a snarl.

  Ruby’s hackles rose but still she said nothing. She realised immediately that these men were inexperienced crooks, probably a couple of thugs who’d taken their chance and bribed the villa guards. Ruby knew proper crooks and these men weren’t it. The staff were away at a festival, something anyone local would’ve known. Simple but effective, she thought to herself. This instinct gave her strength, focus.

  ‘All right,’ Ruby said, her voice steady despite the trembling already threatening to take over her body, her heart pounding against her slender chest. ‘I’ll give you the money.’

  ‘No! Ruby they’ll kill us, d’ya hear me?’ Archie coughed, sinking back into the chair he was tied to. The pain of his injury stopped his plea.

  Ruby continued as if her beloved husband was not in the room, as if he wasn’t bleeding heavily from his broken nose. A fly buzzed against the huge glass window that overlooked the bay. The hot Spanish sunshine glittered on the turquoise sea as it lapped against the white shore far below.

  ‘I’ll do what you tell me, but you don’t touch him.’ Ruby shot back with authority.

  Ignoring her, the second gunman raised his weapon as if to strike the man she loved again.

  ‘You. Don’t. Touch. Him.’ Her voice was low. Despite her pounding heart, she remained calm, dignified.

  For a second, she wondered if the robbers had heard her. She knew they might just shoot them anyway, leave them for dead and escape with the priceless paintings that lined her walls. That would cause them problems, though. They’d have to move the stolen artworks, and looking at the two men, they didn’t look the type to have high-class art contacts. They looked downright scruffy. Ruby’s instincts told her they were nobodies, and she would bet her life they would keep going all the way, intent on stealing the prize in the form of the rolls of cash in her safe.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ she said. ‘I’ll get you the money but put yer guns down. You’re makin’ me nervous and I might forget the combination . . .’ She smiled, knowing the effect it would have on them.

  She sensed, like an animal scenting its prey, that they were rattled. Though she could only see their eyes, slits inside their headgear, she noticed their gazes were darting around the room, edgy and wild. She knew they were expecting her – a woman – to panic, to scream and faint, but that wasn’t her style. She was the calm negotiator, the steely head that had faced down bigger villains than these two scruffy chancers. They had no idea who they’d come up against. Ruby was no longer the innocent young woman she’d once been. Every second that went past was giving her a creeping advantage.

  Reluctantly, both men put down their guns. Ruby, satisfied by their acquiescence, allowed herself a small smile as she slowly
began to move to the back of the room, turning her back on the gunmen. Her expensive heels clicked against the marble, the only sound except for the rasp of the men breathing inside their menacing balaclavas. Not exactly beachwear. A balaclava on a scorching hot day was another sign of their need for this money. Why torment themselves unless they had to?

  Each step she took brought her closer to the family safe. Now no one breathed. The air was turgid, the heat overpowering. She leaned forward and pushed aside an abstract painting. Behind it was the large metal safe, not the only one in the plush villa, but it was the one they used most and she guessed the burglars didn’t know about the others. It wouldn’t matter anyway. A plan was forming in Ruby’s mind. Always sharp, she knew she had a split second to decide the next step.

  In that moment, Ruby saw herself as if from a great distance. A woman, still beautiful, still composed, and about to make the most important move of her life. The stakes weren’t just high, they were soaring. If she got this wrong, they’d all be dead. Ruby’s mind began to clear. She saw herself as a child, sticking up for her friends at school unafraid of the bullies. She saw herself as a young woman, living a good, normal life. And she saw herself making the hard choices, always knowing she wanted more. Well, now she’d got it, all right. She had more of everything: money, glamour, danger . . .

  The time had come. Ruby glanced back at the men. She caught the look on their faces, a look of expectation, of riches to come. They looked like they could almost smell their victory – and in that second she knew they’d kill her the moment they laid eyes on the money. She focused her attention back to the dial, taking a deep breath. Click. Click. Click.

  PART ONE

  THE DECISION

  Canning Town,

  London, 1990

  CHAPTER 1

  ‘Not sausages again, Mum. Can’t we ’ave somethin’ different for once?’ groaned the teenage girl as she nudged her brother, sitting across from her at the small kitchen table.

  ‘Be thankful you’ve got this, Ruby,’ said Cathy Murphy, as she spooned mashed potato onto her truculent daughter’s plate. ‘You know money is tight, it’s the best I can do, love.’

  Ruby gave Cathy a sad smile. ‘I know, Mum, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to rub it in. It’s just sometimes I wish we could ’ave steak and chips like they have at Sarah’s . . .’

  Sarah was Ruby’s best friend and neighbour. They’d grown up together.

  ‘You know where her old man gets his cash from, don’t ya, Ruby?’ Her brother Bobby spoke between mouthfuls of sausage, barely looking up from his plate.

  Ruby gave him a withering look. ‘Course I do, I wasn’t born yesterday. He’s a blagger. That’s a bank robber to you, Mum.’ Cathy sniffed, showing her disapproval but Ruby continued, ‘Some say he’s big-time now. All I know is that Sarah wears posh dresses bought from proper shops while I’m still wearin’ dresses from Rathbone Market . . .’

  Ruby looked down at the soft yellow frock she was wearing. She liked the way it contrasted with her coal-black hair and brought out her green eyes. It fitted her slim figure beautifully, though it had been second-hand. The hems were fraying – again – and she needed to replace some of the buttons down the back.

  ‘You look gorgeous, Rube, you always do, my darlin’,’ Cathy looked over at her, trying to reassure her daughter.

  The gesture only made Ruby roll her eyes and grin. ‘You know what I mean, though . . .’

  Their entire world was enclosed within the East End and the neighbouring roads next to Star Lane. Every day of Ruby’s life had been spent in these streets, surrounded by people she’d known since she was born. It was a close-knit community, but a place divided sharply into those who stayed on the honest path – working manual jobs, eking out their wages until pay day – and those who walked a very different path. Unlike her family, many of Ruby’s friends, including Sarah and the other girls she hung out with, had already turned to crime. Most of it wasn’t big stuff: hoisting or cashing fake cheques and nicking postal orders. Some of her mates’ dads did jump-ups – jumping onto lorries to steal whatever they carried, or diverting lorries and their contents by dressing up in security garb or fluorescent jackets to lure unwary drivers to offload onto stolen trolleys. From what Ruby heard, it was a trick that worked surprisingly well much of the time, but of course, the drivers might’ve taken a back-hander to look the other way.

  It was how things were done. The attitude was that big firms could afford a loss here and there, so what was the harm? Those were the people who could buy a round in the pub, or go up to the West End to buy proper clothes from real shops like M&S. To Ruby, that seemed like the height of luxury, and something the Murphys would never have.

  Everyone, Ruby and her family included, knew what their neighbours were up to, but the code of silence of the East End, one that had existed for generations, still stood. You didn’t grass up your own, no matter what they’d done. No police, or Feds as they were known to Ruby, were ever called. What happened in the streets around Star Lane was a world unto itself, and that’s the way most people liked it. Most people – except her mum and dad.

  Ruby looked around the table in the small kitchen. Everyone she loved was there: her older brother Bobby, her mum Cathy now taking off her faded apron and sitting down to eat, and her dad Louie, who until now had been washing his hands at the sink. Their neat terraced Victorian house might be small, but it was home. And her dress might be second-hand, but they had everything they needed.

  ‘Louie, get yerself sat down and let me dish up yer dinner. You look done in.’ Cathy frowned. She worried incessantly about her husband, especially after the death of his father, Jim. It’d been Jim who’d taken in Ruby’s parents when Cathy fell pregnant. Cathy’s own parents had been quick to see the back of her.

  Ruby smiled at her dad, her co-conspirator and ally.

  Louie turned to wink at his daughter as he offered his plate up to her mum. ‘Don’t fuss, love, I’m fine,’ Louie said, waving away her concern.

  Louie spent his days at the scrapyard on the Isle of Dogs, a few streets behind their house. It was a bustling place filled with stacked-up discarded cars, forklift trucks moving large machinery into piles, and workers and sellers haggling over the price of that day’s offerings. It was hard work and long hours for little pay, but Louie grew up around the site, dodging cranes and trucks and following his own dad around after school.

  ‘Darlin’ I’ve been workin’ on that scrapyard since I was fourteen, but it’s tough work. A man gets tired,’ Louie said, picking up his knife and fork and looking at Cathy expectantly.

  ‘I know, love, and your dad always said he’d wanted better for ya. He never wanted ya to leave school and earn a wage in such a place . . .’ Cathy started to say, but Louie cut in.

  ‘Look, babe, Dad brought me up on his own. We needed the money. I never regretted it, though sayin’ that, I nearly did today; it was a bad day, I’ll admit that.’

  ‘Why, Dad?’ asked Ruby as she cut up her sausages.

  Louie glanced over at his wife, suddenly unsure if he should say what was on his mind. Cathy stopped dishing out Bobby’s food. ‘Go on,’ she said, eyebrows raised. Louie looked like he regretted mentioning it.

  ‘One of the cranes almost took out a pile of scrap. It ’appens. I’m fine and no one got hurt . . . It’s times like that I’m bloody sure ya need to make the most of your locksmith apprenticeship, ya won’t be followin’ in my footsteps, Bobby.’

  ‘Language!’ admonished his wife, but her face was worried rather than stern.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Louie said. ‘Now let’s eat, I’m starvin’. And anyway, all I ever wanted was to raise a good family and get a good wife, and I done that.’ He smiled at Ruby.

  ‘Somethin else did ’appen today,’ Louie swallowed his forkful of heavily salted potato and boiled peas, and leaned forward.

  ‘Not sure I want to hear this,’ Cathy said, sitting down and starting to e
at. ‘Bobby, get yer elbows off the table. We might not ’ave cash to throw about but my kids will grow up with proper manners,’ she muttered.

  ‘I am grown up, Mum!’ Bobby beamed.

  ‘Go on, Dad,’ Ruby interjected, keeping the peace.

  ‘Well, somethin’ ’appened today that hasn’t ’appened for a long time. I got offered crooked work . . .’

  The revelation prompted Ruby to glance over at Bobby, who was looking at their dad in surprise.

  ‘You said no, right, Dad?’ Bobby said, putting down his fork.

  ‘Course I did, son, but they were pretty insistent. These blokes I knew at school came in to the yard, drivin’ a right old banger of a van. I thought they looked shifty. I went to say hello and shake their ’ands, and they drew me over to the van, opened up the back doors and there it was . . .’

  ‘There what was?’ Ruby burst out. She was dying to know the answer.

  Louie turned to look at his daughter. He could see the glint of fascination in her eyes. ‘It was a safe. They’d nicked it from a warehouse down the docks and wanted me to open it with my welding torch.’

  ‘I could’ve done that without the mess for a nice fee. Wouldn’t take more than a minute to crack a safe open,’ Bobby cut in, laughing.

  It was clearly a joke, but Cathy frowned again. ‘Go on, love,’ she said to her husband.

  ‘That’s it. They offered me a small fortune to crack it. I told them I don’t do that kind of business. I said, “Everyone round ’ere knows I don’t do no crooked work, I leave that to the villains around our way.”’ At this point Louie frowned. ‘For a minute, I thought they weren’t goin’ to take no for an answer,’ he said.

  Cathy’s face registered alarm. She understood what he meant. ‘Did they threaten ya?’ she asked.

  ‘I think they thought about it,’ Louie answered carefully. ‘Luckily there were a couple of the lads on site and they saw what was goin’ on and came over. But for a minute there . . .’

  Ruby saw the briefest glimpse of fear on her dad’s face and guessed there was more to the story than Louie was letting on.