a/n

Liverpool is still England's most sectarian city, (vast majority of children still educated by faith schools) and the questions of religion, residence and football teams had more resonance in the 80's than (hopefully) now. Back then it wasn't that long since Protestant graffiti had adorned Netherfield Road South. Having said that I did notice a small 12th July Orange Lodge parade last year in Lime Street when I was visiting. Although historically Everton used to be regarded as the Catholic team, the actual clubs themselves tried to downplay any sectarian divide and they now enjoy strong support from both denominations. Similarly Catholics tended to work the North Docks, vote labour and live in and around Scotland Road and the North End, whilst Protestants tended to work the South Docks, vote conservative and live in and around Netherfield Road and the South End.

Chapter 1

Joey pushed his food round his plate, trying to block out the recurring arguments and rows that were an inevitable part of Boswell family mealtimes. Since his latest bruising encounter with Roxy he felt more battered than he ever remembered feeling before.

He shut his eyes, desperate to ignore the racket going on round him and keep his cool. He felt his mam's hand squeezing his own, he opened his eyes a fraction to find her looking at him with concern.

"Oh luv, are you ok?" Knowing even as she said it that Joey was far from alright.

He managed a small strained smile, "I'll be fine mam, just give it time."

She gave his hand a final squeeze, and withdrew her own, thinking that was Joey all over, never wanting to worry her or share his problems. As if she couldn't tell when he was upset, or when he was bothered. Nellie was sensitive enough towards her eldest to know that apart from his own feelings, he was hating the fact that all the family knew his business. Joey had always been a private person, never letting on anything about himself. He came and went and never said what he was up to, not that where he got his money from was something Nellie wanted to know. She was conscious that once Freddie had left them Joey had managed, in a remarkably short space of time, to buy the houses both they and her father were living in. No matter what Joey thought she wasn't unworldly enough to know he'd done that by legitimate means, and only hoped he wasn't damaging his soul irreparably. Joey had always had plenty of cash knocking about which he'd shared with the family and since leaving school he'd never had anything which could be considered conventional employment. His private life had always been just that, private. He made a point of never confiding anything to his siblings, so for them all to be privy to the spectacular fall out from Roxy must be galling for him.

"Right," Joey got up, his lunch uneaten. "I'm off."

He left abruptly to seek sanctuary in his car.

"What's his problem then?" Billy spluttered.

"He's upset Billy, haven't you got any sense?" Aveline was irritable with her brother.

"No, he hasn't. No sense, no feelings for anyone else." Adrian answered whilst Billy sat staring open mouthed at her.

"Of course I've got feelings, I'm upset with Julie but none of you lot care," Billy shouted thumping the table.

"Yeah, but you're permanently upset about Julie and don't we know it." Jack added his contribution.

"Besides when I said feelings for anyone else I meant empathy. Something you sorely lack." Adrian was at his most patronising.

Billy jumped to his feet. "That's it, use big words that I don't even know the meaning of why don't you?"

"Yes I will. It's not my fault you're a moron." Adrian glanced round at Aveline, who nodded.

"God, we can't ever have a meal in peace can we? I'm off. Adrian you coming?" Jack rose from the table, adding to himself, 'thank God I'm out of here soon.'

"Might as well," replied Adrian giving a haughty glare to Billy now slumped over the table.

"Eh, Jack can you give us a lift into town? Save us getting a bus."

"Course, hurry up though. Me and Adrian are going to an auction."

The three of them left leaving Billy still face down on the table and their mam clearing the dishes around him.

"Should we talk to him?" Jack noticed Joey still in his car.

"No, he'd probably rather not. You know what he's like."

"Ar'ey poor Joey, that Roxy's a cow and I didn't like her anyway."

The three of them waved at Joey, got into Jack's van and jerked off down the road, laughing and joking with each other.

Joey had given a brief acknowledgement and decided to move away before his mam came out to collect grandad's lunch tray. He knew she meant well, but right now he just wanted to be left alone. He accelerated smoothly away, debating where to go. Whilst cruising along, a vibration from his jacket pocket caused him to jump slightly, before reaching in and removing his business phone. "Hello, yes?"

"Can you be here in fifteen minutes for a collection?"

Joey frowned. "What sort of collection?" It was unusual to be offered work for mid afternoon.

"A small one, valuable, dis.."

"Look, I've told you I'm not up for that sort of job anymore."

"I know, but my normal agent is on holiday. So I thought of you, as you always do such a professional job. Naturally I will make it worth your while, five hundred. Just a little pick up and drop off. But I will need you to wear the suitable clothing that awaits you here."

Joey was tempted, he could do with replenishing his savings. By the time he'd sorted out housing for Roxy and the lad, spent weeks helping his dad out until he was back on his feet after his broken leg, he was almost cleaned out. To say nothing of the fact that he was more or less single-handedly keeping the family afloat. He came to a decision.

"Ok then. Usual place?"

On receiving the affirmative he drove to the Rodney Street offices of his contact. As he parked the thought passed through his brain about what a great place it was to hide a criminal enterprise, tucked away amongst the doctors, dentists, accountants and lawyers. He pressed the entry phone and was buzzed in straight away. Joey changed as requested, a cheap suit, shirt and tie along with a hi-vis jacket and pair of steel toe-capped boots.

The distinguished looking, impeccably dressed man facing him smiled and counted out the cash into his hand. Joey raised his eyebrows as the cash mounted up.

"A collection from 63, Westbourne Walk, a Mr Moses, to be delivered back here as soon as possible, please." The quiet, beautifully modulated voice never ceased to fascinate Joey. He wasn't the customary crooked gaffer Joey normally did business with, and they would never have crossed paths if Joey hadn't been introduced to him by Michael. A polite, intelligent, cultured, camp, and yet at the same time, most menacing man Joey had ever met. It was all in his eyes. A man Joey wouldn't ever want to be on the wrong side of, but one he had come to emulate to some degree. Joey had met him in a disreputable club around ten years ago when Michael had been cruising for a bit of rough, and an unlikely friendship had been formed.

He frowned, "I thought The Radcliffe had been demolished."

"Some of it is left Mr Boswell, though I believe it is wholly derelict and awaiting destruction. Please do not forget your clip board and hat."

Joey picked them up and left.

He stopped the car as near as he could, put on his hat, picked up his board, and cut through the maze of vandalised buildings to Westbourne Walk, looking vainly for any house numbers.

"Mr Boswell?" The voice came from one of the stripped out properties.

Joey turned and gave a curt nod, "Mr Moses?"

A middle aged man dressed as a demolition worker, inclined his head and held up a small package, gift wrapped and finished with a golden bow.

Joey raised his eyebrows.

"I assure you, Mr Boswell, this is your collection."

Another posh fella thought Joey, slightly puzzled. He approached and counted the cash in front of him, then completed the traditional exchange. Joey placed the package into his pocket, heavier than he'd anticipated, and zipped it up. The pair left the walkway together.

"An unusual estate Mr Boswell, modelled on a Cornish Fishing Village I believe."

"Er, I think so, yes."

They walked back towards Joey's car, making Joey feel slightly uneasy, normally these transactions were over in an instant, both parties going their separate ways as quickly as possible.

The man stopped, "Yes, highly unusual. And very short lived. One wonders quite what the architects and planners were thinking. No sea and no fish." He waved his arm around indicating the skyline, then shook his head. "Do give my love to Alastair."

He smiled and held his hand out, Joey shook it, and got into his car. Glancing in the mirror he noted the man returning through the estate the way they had come.

The mystery of the clothing was solved anyway. To a casual onlooker, or bizzie they would have appeared to be a part of the mass of workers involved in remodelling Everton yet again, not worth a second glance.

He parked a few streets away and made his way back to the office on foot, not a good idea for his distinctive car to be parked outside too often.

He was buzzed in and handed his package over.

"Oh, and Mr Moses asked me to give his love to Alastair, I assume that's you."

"Indeed, sweet of him." He smiled, holding the package up almost reverently. "Mr Boswell, when you have changed I have a proposition for you along with your remuneration."

Joey nodded, slightly intrigued, and was soon back in front of the man he knew as Mr Grainger.

"Mr Boswell." He passed the £500 over, still in the unopened bank packaging. Although Joey didn't really approve of his business, he paid well, promptly, and without any quibbling.

"I need to move this product on quickly and as I said Michael is on holiday. I need, therefore, an honourable, discreet, reliable man, and I believe you are that man, Mr Boswell. Brandy?"

"A small one, thank you." Joey took the proffered drink.

So, Mr Boswell, I am willing to offer you twenty five percent of the mark up for each delivery made. I estimate, conservatively, the total profit will be around five times the original outlay."

Joey made a rapid calculation, and made his mind up, sod the morality.

"Done." He finished his drink.

"You will not regret it Mr Boswell. The deliveries will all be in the redevelopment area, in the guise undertaken today, so you may wish to take the costume and props with you. Good day Mr Boswell, I will be in touch."

Joey left the building, a mere two hours after he'd set off from home and five hundred pounds up. He drove back to Kelsall Street, the gear in the boot, far more upbeat than he'd been when he'd set out.


Another meal, another argument around the Boswell table. Joey sighed. "Couldn't we just have a meal sometimes without a row."

Adrian and Aveline stopped dead, they always did when Joey spoke in that particular tone, but Billy carried on as usual until a "Bill-y," from Joey pulled him up short.

"Right, I want you all to go about your business, so I can go about mine." Nellie was keen to get dinner over with as soon as possible.

Apart from Joey the family did as they were told and left the table.

"You out again this afternoon Joey?"

"Not yet, mam, not yet."

"Well take your coffee into the parlour then."

Joey removed himself and sat down, resting his head back and his feet on the coffee table. It had been an odd three days. He'd made four deliveries each day, twelve packages identical to the original but lighter, gift wrapped, to twelve different 'demolition workers' none of whom were the usual movers and shakers on the Merseyside underworld scene. Joey wondered if there was some sort a of gay mafia operating across the north-west, a parallel universe to the one he typically dipped into. True to his word Alastair Grainger had paid Joey the agreed percentage each day, and as it had proved twice as profitable as originally predicted, both men were highly satisfied.

But thought Joey, the most remarkable thing about it all, even more than the statement that had nearly caused him to spit out the fine cognac he was drinking to celebrate the successful conclusion of this courier service, was a chance, or rather a series of chance meetings.

Recalling the outcome, the whole scenario replayed itself in Joey's mind yet again.

"Pardon me for asking Mr Boswell, but were you ever in a relationship with Michael?"

"Er, no. Not that he doesn't try it on every so often." Temporarily lost for words Joey recovered quickly.

"Does it offend you?"

"No, I mean it's not my thing, but it's quite flattering isn't it, if some-one fancies you?" He sipped his drink, and smiled. "Let's face it though Michael would proposition any male with a pulse."

"Very forward thinking Mr Boswell. Many straight men get mortally offended at the slight to their manhood."

Joey had just shrugged. "Doesn't bother me, I count Michael as a friend. I'm not fussed about who he sleeps with."

"You've made quite a hit the last few days Mr Boswell, so if you did ever decide to expand your life experiences you won't be short of offers."

This time Joey very nearly spat out the mouthful he had just taken.

Fortunately at this moment the desk phone went. "Thank you."

Alastair Grainger turned to Joey, "I'm afraid we will have to terminate here Mr Boswell, my 2.30 appointment has arrived."

He smiled at Joey's look. "The plaque outside is genuine Mr Boswell, and I do see patients. Thank you so very much for your services."

Joey shook his head, the whole conversation had been quite surreal. But what had followed on had been even more unexpected.

Leaving a bank later that afternoon, after depositing the last of his cash into one of his alternative accounts, Joey was walking back to his car smiling to himself at nothing in particular, when he recognised Martina from the DHSS walking straight towards him.

She shook her head, "I don't believe it Mr Boswell, this is the third day running. Are you deliberately trying to wind me up?"

"No, I'm not. You sure this is not part of your 'I'm out to get you Mr. Boswell' then?"

They both grinned at each other. Yesterday Joey had been getting into his car, which he'd parked in Canning Street, when Martina had come out of one of the nearby houses.

"What are you doing?" Joey had asked somewhat rudely.

"I live here Mr Boswell, what's your excuse?"

"Dentist." Joey said the first thing that came to mind.

She nodded and continued on her way and Joey had driven off. That was twice now she'd caught him at the end of his shift. On Tuesday evening he'd been in The Old Stingo to complete his final drop for the day, when he'd spotted her having a drink with a much older man. It had unnerved him so much, he'd nearly missed his cue.

"So Miss Martina, out of your life-proof plastic box for the day. How about joining me for a drink?"

"Sorry?"

"A drink, an alcoholic, or if you prefer, a non alcoholic beverage, available from the hostelry of you choice."

"That's what I thought you said. You are kidding Mr Boswell?"

Joey looked at her steadily.

"Oh God, you're not kidding." She had a mildly alarmed expression on her face, which made Joey want to laugh out loud.

"Correct, Miss Martina."

"Why?"

"Why not?" countered Joey. "Martina, I'm offering you a drink not a trip up the aisle. It's obvious that the fates have decreed we should meet this week, so who are we to deny them?"

"Spouting poetically again Mr Boswell? I hope you mean Clotho rather than Atropos. Alright I'll join you for a drink, give me a chance to find out what you were up to the other night."

"You have me there I'm afraid sunshine, I didn't benefit from a classical education. Any preferences?"

"How do you feel about The Villiers?"

"Fine by me sweetheart."

They turned as one for the short walk to the pub, just managing to find a table in the busy city centre pub.

"So what were you doing with," he paused, "yourself on Tuesday night?" He had been going to say out with a man old enough to be your father, but thought better of it.

"Having a drink with me dad. I'd called round to see me parents, but me dad had already gone to the pub, so when I left I popped in to catch up with him." She took a sip. "But more to the point what were you doing in there? It's not your neck of the woods Mr Boswell."

"Job interview." Joey replied, inexplicably cheered that she hadn't been with a boyfriend, not that it was any of his business.

Her eyes widened, "Does this mean you won't be requiring me services any more?"

"Sadly unsuccessful," Joey gestured resignation with his hands and eyes.

"I might have known," she laughed.

"So you're a Netherfield Roader then. Are you an Orangeman, women, person, Orangeperson then?"

"What, with a name like Delaney?" Martina couldn't help laughing again. "And not a Netherfield Roader either, Scottie Road. But you know in the sixties clearances things got more mixed, me parents had the choice between Ellison Tower or Kirkby. So they went for Ellison, eleventh floor mind."

Joey grinned, "Good view though. Red or blue?"

"One way's not bad, the other's straight into Edinburgh Tower, and it's a pig when the lifts are out. Black and white."

"The Wirral Woolies? Oh, Martina!"

"No, not really. I hate football and it used to wind me family up." She was smiling now.

"Right, what do you want Mr Boswell? I'm sure you didn't bring me here to discuss me parents living arrangements, football team, or religious affiliation." She was back in DHSS mode.

"No, course not sweetheart, just making conversation. I don't have any hidden reason except, well we've met unexpectedly three days in a row and fate is obviously trying to tell us something, do you not think?"

"No, Mr Boswell, I don't think it's anything more than a run of coincidences." She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Anyway, I need to be off shortly, can I get you a drink before I go?"

"No thanks, I'm driving, and Martina I'm heading home so I'll drop you."

Joey assumed she'd refuse a lift, so he was pleasantly surprised when she thanked him and accepted.

He'd enjoyed the drive back to Martina's, away from Steers House she really was very easy to talk to. When they'd stopped he turned to her, "Martina, could we go for a proper drink tomorrow evening. It's Friday so there'll be no rush for work next day. And, and there is something I'd like to ask you."

"Oh God, I didn't see that one coming." Martina looked irritated beyond measure.

"Look, it's nothing, nothing dubious, and it's nothing to do with the DHSS," he was quick to assure her. "It's more about how I present meself. I'd appreciate your take on things because I know you'd be honest."

Martina looked at him quizzically. "Can't you talk to that united family of yours Mr Boswell?"

He shook his head. "No, I can't at the best of times, but definitely not about this."

She considered, Joey dropped his eyes, "ok then, Mr Boswell. I'll meet you at The Villiers, 8pm."

He smiled gratefully, blew her a kiss through the window, and pulled away.

And now it was tomorrow and he was meeting her this evening.

"Joey luv, are you alright?" His mam hove into view.

"Don't sweat about me mam, I'm fine, just had a few busy days." He sat up, smiled at her and rubbed her arm gently. "Oh mam, I'm out for dinner tonight."

"Joey," Nellie drew herself up, "you're not out with that Roxy again are you?" Her lips were pursed.

"No mam, not Roxy." He shook his head and smiled at her indignation. "Someone else, just a friend, nothing more."

He lay back. "I told you mam, don't sweat on me, I'm ok."