The Family (27 page)

Chapter Eighty-Two

    Donny was embarrassed and it showed. He took the apology well, and shook hands with the lad. Everyone who witnessed Philly's humiliation was secretly pleased to be there and see it. He was an arrogant little fucker, and it was very satisfying to see him cut down to size. Phillip Murphy was a hero to these people, especially now, making his elder son apologise to Donny in full view of everyone. That was how it should be; Philly had treated the man appallingly, and it was right he should pay for it. This scene would be the talk of the seafront for weeks, and that was something the lad had to know, and it only added to his humiliation.

    'I'm so ashamed, Donny, that one of my boys could act like that. Well, you and I both know that drink and youngsters don't mix.' Phillip was making the old man laugh, being affable and friendly, the big man. Philly wished he had a gun, because he would happily blow the fucker away at this moment in time.

    'He's a good lad, Mr Murphy, and I've never had a problem with him before. I blame those mates of his, they were egging him on.' Donny was trying to make excuses for his employer's son and that was not lost on Philly, who finally had the decency to feel a sliver of remorse.

    'Well, Donny, I can guarantee I won't be drinking again for a long time. I really can't apologise enough, it was out of order. Every time I think about it I could die of shame.'

    'We're like one big family here, Donny,' Phillip added. 'And if anyone hurts my family, no matter who they are, they pay for it.'

    It was what they all wanted to hear, and Philly had a sneaking admiration for his father's spin on what had been, after all, a terrible act of arrogance on his part. Phillip looked like the big benevolent employer, but Philly knew that he would climb over their dead bodies if it got him what he desired.

    Back in the office Philly waited to be asked to sit, he knew the protocol by now. Phillip was still incensed at his son's behaviour, and how it reflected on him.

    'You done good, kid, but I warn you, one more incident like that and you're on your own.' Phillip saw the shock on his son's face and smiled at Philly's stupidity. 'You're out next time on your arse. Fending for yourself. You've got a bit too much of my brother Jamsie in you, and I intend to make sure that gets knocked out of you sooner rather than later. Bullying is easy, anyone can be a bully. But in this game, you get on a lot better and a lot quicker by looking out for the people who handle your money on a daily basis. This is a cash business, and goodwill goes a lot further than a good hiding, remember that.'

    Philly nodded.

    'Now, about the drinking. I am going to arrange for you to have a blood test every week, and if I find any drugs in it, I'll brain you where you fucking lie. This wasn't about drink and we both know that, so what had you taken?'

    Philly had been expecting this; he could never get one over on his father. 'I'd had an E. I was out of me brains.'

    Phillip nodded almost imperceptibly. 'Drugs are for the dimlos, not for the likes of us. Drugs make you stupid, make you forget what you're doing. They make you a cunt in my book, and everyone else's. So make sure that's the last time you do anything that stupid.'

    Philly nodded again, seeing his whole social life dissolving before his eyes. He was nineteen for Christ's sakes, not a little kid.

    'And one last thing. You need to start treating your mother with some respect, or I'll rip your fucking head off and use it as a football. You have been acting the cunt for a while now, and I think it's about time you grew up.'

    Philly didn't answer that. He honestly didn't know what to say.

Chapter Eighty-Three

    'Come on, Christine, you know it makes sense.'

    Christine was laughing loudly and Breda was pleased to see her so happy. They were having lunch on the seafront at a smart little fish restaurant where the food was only surpassed by the view. Christine ordered herself a large dessert; even though she didn't really want it, she knew it would please Breda. It was strange but the two women had become very close over the last few years. Since Ricky's funeral, Breda had made a point of visiting her almost daily, and they had found that in actuality they had quite a lot in common. Christine knew that Breda did what she did out of genuine caring, but she also knew that she reported back to Phillip. Phillip had been uneasy that she might talk about Ricky's murder to the doctors, but he had not realised that if she had been going to tell anyone the truth about her life, she would have done it long ago. Too many people depended on Phillip for their livelihoods, her own parents included, and she would never do anything to jeopardise them or their safety. She wouldn't trust her loving husband as far as she could throw him; he would take her father out just to get even with her. He was like God in many respects - he could be kind and loving, or he could be vengeful. She knew he saw himself as the nearest thing to God on this earth, so the simile was quite apt.

    'I bet Philly's not happy, Breda, he's like his father in many ways. He worries too much about other people's opinions.'

    Breda nodded in agreement. 'That's true, Chris. But I think Phillip was right to make him apologise in public. What he did was bang out of order.'

    'He's a bully, he talks to me like shit half the time.'

    Breda didn't answer her. She knew that Philly was ashamed of his mother, and that it made him feel guilty. But she understood the boy's dilemma in a strange way. He had his father on the one hand - a respected and well-liked man - and, on the other hand, he had a mother who was a drunk, a prescription junkie and the apple of said father's eye. She knew how hard it was for the boys.

    'Shall we get another bottle of wine, Bred?'

    'If you like. Jamsie's driving, bless him.'

    'Has Phillip spoken to him yet?'

    Breda shook her head in consternation. 'Never a once. In all these years, Chris. It's unbelievable really.'

    Christine signalled for another bottle of wine and said resignedly, 'No, it ain't. You and I both know he's more than capable of worse than that.' She said the words without any malice whatsoever, as if she had finally accepted the way of her world and could live within it. It showed Breda just how far her sister-in-law had come.

    'Why don't you leave him, Christine? I know he wouldn't like it, but he loves you enough to let you go. He only wants what's best for you.'

    Christine grinned; her white, even teeth were expensively capped, and her make-up was as always perfect, she looked like any other rich woman who lunched their days away Except her eyes were dead, they held no real life behind them. 'Now, you and I know that he might love me, but he wouldn't let me leave him - he would see that as a failure and you know my Phillip. He doesn't cope well with failure. Poor Philly failed him with his bad behaviour and look where that got him. No, Breda, I'll never leave him, love, and when I do it'll be because one of us is in a body bag.'

    Christine laughed at her own wit, but the truth of her words stayed with Breda for the rest of the day.

Chapter Eighty-Four

    'You ready, Dad?'

    Phillip nodded and, finishing his cup of coffee, he kissed Christine on the cheek and then stood up, yawning widely. 'You and your rugby, Tims, fuck knows where you inherited that from.'

    Christine didn't even look up from her
Daily Mail
as she said quietly, but forcefully, 'My father - he's always loved the rugby.'

    Timmy saw Phillip's jaw tighten in annoyance, and wondered why his mother had to antagonise him all the time. It was as if she had come full circle, from the timid wretch to this woman who goaded her husband at every opportunity.

    'He has sat on his granddad's lap and watched it since he could first walk, Phillip. Philly was football, like
your
family, and Timmy was a rugby boy, like
mine.''
The inference being, how could he have not known that?

    'I wasn't really asking that as a question, it was more of a statement, Christine.'

    She shrugged nonchalantly. 'Well, I'm glad we sorted all that out.'

    Phillip threw the car keys at his son and said quietly, 'Go and get in the car. I want to talk to your mother in private for a minute.'

    Timmy did as he was asked without questioning it. At seventeen he was a big lad, hence his being a rugby prop but, like his brother, he did what his father asked him without question.

    When they were alone Phillip knelt down by his wife's chair and, putting his index finger under her chin, he forced her face round so he could look into her eyes. 'Now, Christine, I love you very much, but you are starting to get on my fucking nerves. If you challenge me once more in front of the boys, or anyone else come to that, I am going to get very angry indeed. Now, I'm pleased you are feeling better, and I am over the fucking moon that you are much chirpier, and chock-full of banter and chat. But one more crack like that and I'll put my hand right across your lovely face. Do you get my drift?'

    Christine was shaking with suppressed anger, but she was also pleased that the fear of him wasn't paralysing her as it used to when she offended him in some way. But she knew not to push him too far; after all, this was Phillip Murphy and she must never forget that, or what he was capable of. She nodded her understanding and he smiled at her then. That wide, all-encompassing smile that told everyone that all was right with the world.

    'Good. I'm glad we got
that
sorted out.'

    It was the first time he had ever come back at her like that, and she knew she had to have pushed him too far at last. That he had spoken to her like he had proved to her that even he had his limit, and she knew she would have to be careful in the future.

    When he left the house she felt the anger returning once more, and wondered at a man who could still want someone who so obviously loathed him. She took an extra few pills, and washed them down with her first drink of the day. She liked the numbness of booze; it evened out the edges of the world and made her forget for a while that she was like a caged bird. The cage was lovely, there was no doubt about that, but it was a cage all the same.

Chapter Eighty-Five

    Ted was sad to admit that he had gone off his elder grandson, and the knowledge grieved him. The boy was a sullen, rude little oik, and that was being nice about him.

    As he watched the lad walking around the shop, he could almost feel the resentment coming off him at even having to be there. But this was one time when Ted Booth agreed with his son-in-law. Philly needed a lesson in respect and dealing with the people from this area should give him just that. These were plain-spoken people who said what they thought, and who often possessed a certain rough dignity, even though their surroundings weren't exactly conducive to the finer things in life. But they had something this boy desperately needed - the advantage of being streetwise, and that counted for a lot in this neighbourhood. Maybe seeing how other people had to live might make him appreciate just how lucky he actually was. Ted could only hope so anyway - from what he had heard the boy had been asking for this for a long time. People protected him because of Phillip's reputation, Christine especially. It seemed to him she couldn't see what the boys were really like; but then half the time she couldn't see what was in front of her face she was so out of it. No, this time he thought Phillip had done the right thing by his grandson, and he would help him sort the lad out with pleasure. Young Philly, for all his swaggering, posturing and bravado, wouldn't last ten minutes on this estate, and that was something he needed to learn, and learn fast. Philly had had it too easy, and it was making him weak and vulnerable. Phillip would not tolerate weakness of any kind in his family.

    Ted was pleased that Phillip had entrusted the boy to him; it told him that Phillip respected him in a way he had not realised before. And even though he would never like this son-in-law of his, he was willing to do the best he could for his grandson.

    'Come on, Philly, start filling those freezers. That stuff will be defrosted before you even open the bloody boxes!'

    Philly sighed heavily, but he started the job as requested. He knew his granddad had to give his father a rundown on his behaviour. It was laughable - he was nineteen and still being treated like a kid. But he also knew he had got off lightly in many respects. At least this got him away from the seafront for a while; he was still embarrassed to be seen there, and he would appreciate the chance for everything to calm down and be forgotten about before he showed his face again. He knew it was cowardly, but that was how he felt. But his granddad's-shops were the pits; all Happy Shopper teabags, old people and processed foods. The young blokes looked like armed robbers, and he was fascinated at how respectful they were to his grandfather. He wasn't a fool though, he knew it was because of his father - everyone he knew was scared of him, himself included. His dream was not to be like him, but
stronger, better
than him. Philly intended to show them all what he was made of, and then no one would ever be able to push him around again.

    He opened the box and started to unpack the cheap pizzas and frozen lasagnes. Growing up on a farm he had developed a healthy disgust for this kind of food, and he was glad he had not been brought up on it. Especially if the kids he saw every day were anything to go by - most were already overweight before they started school, and ate crisps and sweets as if they were staple foods instead of treats. It had certainly been an eye-opener all right.

    The door opened and Philly automatically looked over to see who it was. He was very pleasantly surprised to see a tall, slim blonde, with killer boots and a come-get-me smile swagger on to the premises.

    As she picked up a loaf of bread and a pint of milk, he rushed to the till, saying loudly, 'It's all right, Granddad, I'll see to this young lady.'

    Tiffany White looked at the young lad with the handsome face and expensive jeans and decided the day was not going to be a total wipeout after all. Smiling at one another, the two began the ritual mating dance of the young, and suddenly things were not looking so bleak for Philly Murphy. In fact, he was already looking forward to coming back to work in the morning.

    Ted Booth smiled in exasperation; he could see the attraction, but he had a feeling that this young hussy might turn out to be a bit too knowing for his grandson, not least because she was already the proud possessor of a nine-month-old daughter. But he knew it would be pointless trying to give the lad advice; after all, he'd only worked here a week and apparently he already knew everything. This was the kind of situation where only experience would be of any real use, and Ted Booth knew for a fact that Tiffany White had enough experience for the both of them; she had been at it since she was thirteen. Ted should know - he had chased her from the backyard of the shop enough times. He had a feeling this grandson of his was about to get his initiation into the real world, especially when he saw Tiffany writing her mobile number down on the back of his grandson's hand.

    He went through to the back of the shop, and allowed himself a little chuckle. She'd eat him for breakfast and spit out his balls, without even pausing for a breath. This was going to be fun to watch for a while, and he could do with a laugh.