The Family (39 page)

Book Four

My strength is made perfect in weakness

II Corinthians, 12:9

Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it

Proverbs, 22:6

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Three

2009

    'Are you sure, Timmy?'

    Timmy nodded sagely. 'Fucking telling you, Dad, he's on a real love job.'

    Phillip grinned. As always, he was amazed at how his younger son had developed. In the last five years both the boys had come on leaps and bounds, but this fellow here was already becoming a legend. His temper was extraordinary, even Phillip was shocked at his son's actions at times, and that took some doing. He could well imagine how outsiders must feel. Timmy was fair and honest just so long as you didn't upset him.

    Philly was doing well too; he had a good rep, but he wasn't a hard taskmaster like his younger sibling. He was no mug though he was still worth ten men on the ground.

    'What's she like?'

    Timmy laughed. 'What do you think? All tits, teeth and designer handbags. Looks like a WAG.'

    Phillip knew exactly what he meant. Philly's taste in women was appalling - they were all brainless nowts. But then, as Philly always said, he wasn't exactly after riveting conversation.

    'You'll meet her tonight anyway, Dad, she's coming to the club.'

    'I think I had better be there then, don't you?'

    At that moment Christine walked into the kitchen and, smiling at her, Phillip said, 'Fancy coming to the club with us tonight? Philly's bringing his bird. According to Timmy, he's on a love job.'

    Christine laughed in delight, and both her husband and son noticed how young and pretty she looked. 'Oh yeah, count me in!'

    Phillip was thrilled, he loved it when she was upbeat like this. She didn't drink too much these days, except for the occasional bender, and they were fucking outrageous. She still depended on her prescription meds though. But she was happier, and that was the main thing. She reminded Phillip at times of himself, she
pretended
she was happy, she played a role and, like him, she had found it made life easier not just for her, but for everyone around her. He pulled her on to his lap and kissed her thick, luscious hair. She smelled good these days - the stale breath was gone, though the vacant stare still lingered at times. But it was all a matter of how you perceived things, and he always looked for the best where this woman was concerned. He loved her, and it seemed that these days, she actually loved him back.

    'Fancy our Philly on a love job!' He was laughing with his wife, and that in itself was still a minor miracle. 'What's her name?'

    'Finoula McCormack.'

    Phillip was astounded. 'No relation to Mad Jack McCormack, I hope?'

    Timmy laughed excitedly. 'Yep, his youngest daughter, and she is a stunner. I can't take that away from her.'

    'Fucking hell, he can pick them can our Philly. I remember seeing Jack fight - always worth a bet, him, he was the nuts in his day. Him and Roy Shaw were the best. Fucking unbelievable strength those old boys had. You throw Jack or Roy in their heydays into a cage now and this new breed of fighters would run a fucking mile.'

    Timmy nodded his agreement; he had met a lot of the bareknuckle fighters with his dad. It was an exciting sport, but if he was honest he was a cage-fighting boy at heart. It was all to do with age, he supposed. Not that he would point that out to his father - he was far too polite.

    'Finoula's a good Irish name, that'll please your mother anyway. She'll be a good Catholic girl!' Christine joined in.

    'Fucking hell, never thought of that! They don't come more Irish than Mad Jack. Like the old man's family, Cork men. Hard bastards and all.'

    Timmy was laughing again, a deep, friendly chuckle that belied the dangerous man he was becoming. 'I don't know about good. She's been around the track more times than a fucking lurcher.'

    Christine sat up straight and said primly, 'That's enough of that kind of talk, thank you very much. After all, if a man has a few girls he's just called a lad. There's such a thing as equal rights, you know.'

    Phillip was irritated by that. 'Not where women are concerned there ain't. A bird who puts it about is still classed as a rogue, and should be treated with the utmost suspicion, especially if she wants to get into
my
family.'

    Christine didn't even bother answering, sometimes his double standards were so outrageous she could scream. So, as always when faced with this kind of conversation, she tactfully changed the subject. It made life easier for everyone. 'How about you, Timmy, you bringing anyone tonight'

    He shrugged. 'I might, Mum, but don't marry
me
off just yet, I'm only twenty-two.'

    She smiled at this handsome son of hers. 'Well, if we're all going out on the town, I'd better get me hair done.'

    She jumped up and bustled from the room. When she was out of his sight, Phillip felt a familiar moment's panic. He couldn't imagine a world without her in it, she made his life what it was. Perfect.

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Four

    Finoula McCormack was beautiful and, boy, did she know it.

    She had long, naturally blond hair and deeply blue eyes, her bone structure was like a young Marilyn Monroe's, and she had the high-breasted slim figure that was peculiar to the women of Cork. Cork women were either amazons, or tiny little birds of women - there was never a happy medium. She had her mother's looks, and her mother's height. She also had her father's feisty disposition. It was a wonderful combination. She was funny, enigmatic, and not as thick as she looked; in fact, she had a quick, agile mind and she was after a decent bloke with a decent earn who could give her a bit more than the average Joe. She was determined not to end up in a bought council house fighting to raise her kids; she was going to make something of her life, and her future kids' lives. She knew her worth; her looks wouldn't last for ever, so she was determined to get what she wanted sooner rather than later. She also wanted someone she loved, not just for what they could give her.

    Philly Murphy was all these things rolled into one man, and she cared about him deeply; she wanted his wedding ring and his kids, in that order. She wanted the big church wedding, and the house with the electric gates and a swimming pool. They shared the same dreams, and that was one of the reasons they got on so well. He was even letting her finally meet his family. She already knew
of
them of course, everyone did, and her mum and his nan were great mates, she saw her sometimes at church. But she came from pretty good stock in that way herself. Mad Jack wasn't exactly a mug, and she knew he was very well thought of by Philly's dad; he had come enough times to see her father fight over the years. They were mates, so she had the appropriate in should she need it.

    She was excited about tonight, it was the first time Philly had taken her to one of their clubs. They normally went out to other places, neutral places in Romford or up town to the West End. She wanted to look her best, and show Philly that she was someone he could be proud of and, more importantly, that she was someone who could fit in with his family.

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Five

    'You sure you're all right, Mum?'

    Veronica nodded, but she wasn't, she felt terrible.

    'Listen, let me get the quack out.' Breda wasn't buying her mother's lies.

    Veronica was already holding her hand palm up. 'No! Now stop keeping on about it. I'm under the weather that's all.' But she knew it was more than that, she just wasn't interested in what it might be. Veronica never went to the doctor, ever. They never told you anything you wanted to hear, it was all doom and gloom. Christ knew she was happy enough in ignorance.

    'He'll find out what's wrong with you, and once he knows that he can treat you accordingly,' Breda persisted.

    Veronica could hear the worry in her daughter's voice, and smiling now, secretly pleased at her daughter's concern, she said, 'Would you feck off, and leave me be. I'm not a spring chicken any more. Jesus, I won't be seeing sixty again, I'm just getting older, slowing down. You'll be the same one day and I hope that Porrick isn't scalding the heart out of you with constant questions.'

    Breda sighed heavily. It was worrying seeing Veronica so thin and weak looking. She still cooked for them all, but it wiped her out these days. Breda had arranged for a cleaner to come in three times a week now the heavy work was getting too much for Veronica. There had been absolute murders when she had first arrived, but now her mother was thrilled with her. She was a lovely Polish girl, very willing, and very polite; she was also a good Catholic and she attended the same church as them, so that was really the deciding factor. But she also kept the place immaculate and, where her mother was concerned, that was the second most important thing. Breda knew her father was glad to get out of the house these days, it was as if the weaker Veronica got, the more frightened he became. He refused to discuss his wife's condition, and Breda knew the next step was to get Phillip involved. Once
he
arranged a doctor's appointment there would be no further arguments, she would have to go, there would be no getting out of it. Breda decided she'd talk to Phillip tonight at the club, then she could relax and stop worrying. It was weird really - Breda gravitated from wanting to punch her mother's lights out, to wanting to hug her on a daily, almost hourly, basis. Deep down, Breda loved her mother even though she accepted that her affections were wholly reserved for Phillip.

    'Here, apparently Philly's bringing his bird tonight - we're going to meet her. She's Jack McCormack's youngest daughter and it's a love job by all accounts.'

    Veronica was pleased, it was about time those boys settled down. 'What, Mad Jack's girl Finoula?'

    Breda nodded. She didn't realise her mother had met her, but then her mother knew everyone who had some kind of Irish heritage.

    'Oh, Jasus, she's a lovely girl - beautiful. I've met her a few times with her mother at seven o'clock Mass. She goes every morning with Mary Mac. Done very well at school, I believe. She did a business something or other - I can't remember what, but she runs her father's bookies, and runs them well, I'm told.'

    Breda was amazed. She had found out more about Finoula in two minutes with her mother than she would from young Philly if she interrogated him for six months. 'I forgot you and Mary Mac were mates, how is she?'

    'Very well, God bless her and keep her. The old breathing is bad, like, but she loved a fag that one. Always had one sticking out the side of her gob! Even when she was cooking!' Veronica laughed in delight at the old memory. She was glad Philly was seeing someone like
them
, someone who understood their world. Timmy's tastes were for the more refined, but sexually accessible females. In short, he never kept them longer than a few weeks, if that. 'Posh totty' was how Phillip described his younger son's girlfriends, and she knew it was a derogatory term, though she didn't really know what it meant. But like young Philly and his father, one day he would meet 'the one', and then he'd change his tune like they all did.

    Except her Declan, of course - in his forties now and still without a partner, as they insisted on calling them these days. Mind you, the same could be said for Breda, but sure, Breda was more man than the men she came across in her work. Though her conquests weren't so young these days - well, not as young as they used to be anyway. Veronica chuckled to herself. Her daughter had the sexual appetite of a Titan, she got that from her - not that she would ever tell her that, of course, but back in the day!

    Jamsie had four stepchildren, and now two of his own, so he'd ended up with six. She was pleased for him though - he had a good girl there, a damn fine girl. And Porrick, him and his little thing were married now, and she knew a child wouldn't be long in the offing with them two. Porrick never said a shagging word, yet him and his girl were always whispering and smiling. Sometimes it got on her nerves, but she kept that to herself. Porrick was her grandson and she loved him, but he was a fecking eejit to try to talk to for any length of time. Would aggravate a saint as her mother used to say.

    Veronica had been thinking about her life a lot lately since this illness had assailed her. She was sure it was serious and all she wanted was to spend what time she had left with her family, however long or short that might be. Especially her Phillip, her boy, her heart.

    As Breda left: the house, she pulled her mother into her arms, and she could feel the frailty of her body. Kissing her hard on the cheek, she said quietly, 'We need you, Mum, all of us, so
please
go to the fucking doctors, will you?'

    Veronica realised she must look much worse than she thought if Breda was so worried. The knowledge depressed her. She wanted another few years, see them all settled properly, and she would go happily to her maker. After all, that was what happened to everyone, wasn't it?

    'Get yourself away, child, and tell me about Finoula and Philly tomorrow. I'll be beside meself until I know what happened.'

    Breda left her mother, but she was anxious, and she knew that she had to tell Phillip to get her sorted out. Christine would make sure the doctor was good, and she would go with her to see him. Christine was great like that, she was dependable when it was something important. She did the jobs no one else really wanted to do, and for that Breda would be eternally grateful. The last thing she wanted was to be dragging her mother to the doctor against her will; as her father always said, her mother could make the top of the morning sound like a declaration of war. No, it would be much better if Christine took her.