The Family (4 page)

Chapter Six

    'Fucking hell, Phil, did you break into a nursery? She's jailbait.'

    Phillip Junior, who was normally very good natured with his sister, turned on her then, and everyone in the hallway was shocked at his words. 'Shut your fucking trap, Breda, just because she ain't a dog like you. She's only fifteen, of course her mother is looking for her. We all looked for you at the same age if you remember. Not that it did us much good.'

    Breda being Breda was not about to let that go. 'What do you mean by that, Phil? Are you having a pop at me then? I was making a joke…'

    Phillip turned to her and, poking a finger in her face, said quietly, 'Well, I ain't in the mood for jokes. So take my advice, and keep them to yourself.'

    They were interrupted by the sound of crying coming from upstairs. Phillip looked at his sister and said sarcastically, 'You better get up there, Bred, sort your boy out. Let's face it, it ain't like his father's gonna turn up and help out, is it?'

    'You nasty bastard, how dare you talk to me like that! Just 'cos your little girlfriend done a runner with her mate. Don't take it out on me.'

    James, the youngest of the Murphy boys, stepped in then, seeing the hurt that Phillip's words had caused not just his sister but also his mother.

    The father of Breda's child was what was commonly known as a wonderer - everyone wondered who he might have been.

    Breda had never let on, and now at two years old, young Porrick was the darling of the household.

    'He don't mean it, Breda, he's on a love job.'

    Phillip looked at his sister and felt ashamed at his words, even though he knew that there was a bit of him that believed she was in the wrong. Deep down inside he thought she was a fucking slag. A baby at fifteen, and no fucking answer to the who-did-it question? It was hardly rocket science. He knew what people were saying about her; it was only his reputation that stopped them saying it to her face.

    His family loyalty, though, was stronger than his bigotry and, whatever he might really think, he would defend her to the death if necessary. Opening his arms wide in a gesture of forgiveness, he said seriously, 'Come on, Breda, give me a break, me bird's just run home to her mother, how do you think I feel? I'm sorry, mate, you know I don't mean it…'

    Breda wasn't to be placated though and, shaking her head slowly, she said heavily, 'I'll give you a heads-up, shall I? Sister to brother. Christine is a lovely girl, but she will be trouble, Phil. You'll never believe that, you will only ever see the good girl, the wilting virgin. How you were
first
in, and
last
out. Well, do you know something, bruv? We women are not as different as you all seem to think we are. And that child up there will always mean more to me than any fucking bloke. You lot included. He is my flesh and blood, so fuck the neighbours, and fuck you for your narrow-mindedness. Unlike men, we women know exactly what we have produced, and we do not have to rely on someone else's honesty to convince us of our children's paternity. So, next time you have a go at me about my baby being fatherless, remember this much.
I
know and
he
will
always
know who his mother is, there can never be an argument about that. And he will also know that he was more important to me than my reputation. You see, that's something none of you ever quite got. At fifteen years old, I chose my
own
flesh and blood over the neighbours and their gossiping. Over you lot, and your fear of what people might think. So anything you have to say to me is pointless. I made a decision against everything you all believed was right.'

    'Stop this now, Breda, it's gone far enough,' Veronica interjected, visibly upset.

    Breda shook her head again, her lovely face smiling amiably, the hurt she had kept inside for so long hidden, until she said sarcastically, 'Oh, Mum, how did it go when I told you I was pregnant? Oh yeah, I remember, "get an abortion, no one will ever know, you're ruining your life, no one will ever want you if you have a baby". And you hammering the door of the church down every Sunday. I nearly swallowed your crap and all. But you see, you never allowed for me and the love I already had for my child. None of you thought about me and what I might want. You
had
to get married, Mum. I chose not to.'

    Breda pushed past her eldest brother, shoving him angrily out of her way. 'I had my baby, I kept my baby, and for you to give me a tug because your little schoolie had to go home to her mum and dad's… I ain't your whipping boy, and you better get your head around that. And now I am going up to settle
my
little boy, and you can go and fuck yourselves.' She walked from the room then, her back ramrod straight and her animosity almost tangible.

    'What the fuck was all that about?' Declan, the middle brother, was genuinely shocked at the night's turn of events.

    Veronica Murphy shook her head in despair.

    Watching his sister mount the stairs, Phillip looked at his father and said honestly, 'She has a point, I suppose.'

    Phillip Murphy Senior looked at his sons and, pushing them gently back into the kitchen, he said loudly, 'Well, that needed to be said. She did a brave thing keeping the child. These days you can flush the poor unfortunates away without a second's thought. If she had done that, sure none of you would have been any the wiser and she would still be like your one there tonight, who ran home to her mammy like a good girl. Can you blame your sister for feeling you all think wrong of her?'

    Phillip looked at his eldest son in particular as he spoke, and Phillip Junior knew that his reaction to his sister had not only been uncalled for, but had also been seen for the hypocrisy that it was. He was suitably ashamed.

    But Christine's goodness, her family's decent reputation, their standing in the small community they had to live in, had shown him just how other people really perceived them all. He knew that his sister's child had been a slur on the family. It was a stigma to have a child and not be married. It was still seen as a terrible thing. Not for the fathers of course, only the mothers of the children. Their lives were more or less ruined. He understood that Breda was telling him this night, without fear or favour, that her child was not going to be apologised for in any way, shape or form. Especially not to the likes of Christine Booth and her family. Breda had tapped into his fear of what Christine's family might think about his sister having a child out of wedlock. She had implied that
his
taking up with a fifteen-year-old girl who didn't know her arse from her proverbial elbow was the reason Phillip suddenly looked down on his own sister, on his own flesh and blood.

    Phillip knew that Breda had perceived his real feelings towards her. He looked at his two brothers, and saw their sceptical looks. They were as aware as Breda of his worries that her child might affect the Booths' overall opinion of him and his family. Phillip was ashamed of his thoughts, and the fact that he had allowed Eileen Booth and her opinions to cloud his judgement.

    But in his favour, he loved Christine with a vengeance. Realistically he knew that his family name alone would be enough for her mother to cause them aggro - on top of everything else, his sister's unmarried state would be another thing Eileen would use against him. Already this young girl had made him turn on his own sister, had made him want to be someone different, someone her family would be happy to welcome. Who her family would see as an asset, not as a liability. Christine was not like the Murphys; she was pure, she was good and decent and that meant the world to him.

    Christine had never asked for anything in her whole life, not really, and he so badly wanted to be good enough for her he had nearly allowed himself to betray his own family. The strength of his feelings and what they made him do frightened him; he had never wanted anyone this way before, had never felt that kind of anger before. And it turned out Christine had not even told her family where she was going - that spoke volumes to him. That she had come to his home and lied to her parents about her whereabouts had really offended him, even though he understood the reasoning behind it.

    But Phillip was going to get his girl, no matter what it took. He was obsessed with her, and he knew there would never be anyone else for him.

Chapter Seven

    'I want to know where you were. And don't you lie to me, Christine, I already know the answer.'

    'Then why ask the road you know, Mum?'

    The two antagonists stared at one another, neither willing to be the first to look away. They were so alike physically - thick blond hair and dark blue eyes. Both were fine boned, with small hands and feet. Eileen saw herself in her daughter, a younger, prettier version, of course. Christine wouldn't waste herself on a no mark; unlike her mother, this girl would use her looks and her brains to her advantage. Eileen would make sure of that if it was the last thing she did in this life.

    She was heartbroken that it had come to this with her only child. A girl who had always done what she was told, who had made her so proud deep inside. Christine couldn't see that her name being associated with a family like the Murphys was something she would one day regret with all her heart. She might be naive, but she was certainly not stupid. Christine had seen the people who frequented their supermarket (Eileen never called it a shop, ever). She had
seen
how those people lived. She was nearly sixteen, she would be off to the sixth form soon and she would meet a different class of person. She would see that the estate was a dump for transients and no-hopers. She had seen them all her life, queuing up for their family allowance and their giros. She had to have seen that this was no life for the likes of her.

    That the post office was a big part of their income Eileen never admitted. She looked on it with disdain as she did everything to do with the supermarket. With her husband's working life. With the place that kept her in the manner she was still not accustomed to as a result of it not bringing in as much money as she would have liked. Eileen was bitter; she had once pictured them with a chain of small supermarkets, and she admitted to herself that if she had been willing to work side-by- side with her husband, a second one would have been possible and then a third. But she was too proud. She had been to teacher training college and had become a part-time teacher at the local primary school. But she now understood that the supermarket should have been a joint venture. That boat had sailed a long time ago though, and she didn't plan to tell her husband he had been right. It was too late anyway, because he didn't want her there any more - she only put off the customers they
did
have. If it wasn't for him and the tick, the majority would leave and go to the new supermarkets springing up all over the place. Nevertheless, times were tough. They now
depended
on the giros, the family allowance and the car tax. They desperately needed another income, because they were finding it increasingly hard to make ends meet. The mortgage was crippling them, and Eileen was determined her daughter was going to contribute before she swanned off to marry and reproduce.

    'Are you going to answer me, Mum?'

    Christine was fed up now. Being questioned every day, every week, so aggressively was not something she was willing to endure any more. She knew her association with Phillip Murphy was now common knowledge, and she had accepted that her mother would eventually get wind of it. She just wished it had not happened so quickly, had not happened tonight.

    'I was at Joanie's.' She knew she had said this to her mother too much recently, but it couldn't be helped. 'It's not a crime to go to a friend's, is it?'

    'No one said it was, but if it was so innocent why didn't you say that in the first place?'

    Christine closed her eyes and counted to ten; she had read a problem page once that said if you took a deep breath and counted to ten before you answered a question, it stopped you from blurting out things you might one day regret. That advice had stood her in good stead over the years with her mother. Not so much lying, as just not telling her the whole truth.

    Her mother saw the bad in
everything
, in her eyes everyone in her daughter's orbit was a potential threat. Even her school- friends and their mothers. Joanie's mum had always sympathised with Christine, had seen the way her mother had demanded total control of her only daughter. Joanie's mum had told her many years ago that she was always welcome to stay there if she needed a break. It had been a watershed for Christine hearing those words. She had known then that her feelings for her mother weren't ingratitude, her mother was genuinely unreasonable.

    'Why didn't I tell you? Do you really need to ask me that, Mum? You keep questioning me as if I have done something wrong, and the more you question me the more I don't want to tell you anything. You're supposed to trust me, trust what I say.' Christine was so upset she was visibly shaking, not so much with anger, though that was a big part of it, but with sheer distress. Why was her mother always trying to catch her out? She
had
been at Joanie's, on the night she was being questioned about anyway. She didn't get to see her friend much these days. Phillip didn't like her for some reason.

    Eileen Booth took a deep breath, and looked into her daughter's eyes. Christine noted that her face was the usual mask of heavy foundation. She thought her mother's make-up made her look like a doll. Made her look unreal. She came down to the breakfast table every day in full war paint, and for as long as Christine could remember, she had never once seen her mother without her face on. Eileen never looked natural, had never looked approachable or friendly even. From her blue eye shadow to her pink cheeks she looked like a stranger. Like someone else's mum. She was very attractive, Christine knew that, saw the way men looked at her. She knew instinctively that her mother's make-up was for their benefit, not her husband's. Eileen had disregarded Ted since Christine could remember. He rarely disagreed with his wife, she was far too aggressive, far too overpowering. Christine knew he had given up trying to make any kind of point long ago. He had been worn down by his wife's constant complaints. Christine was determined that she would not have a marriage like that.

    As Eileen Booth looked at her lovely daughter she felt the urge to cry. She couldn't bear to see her lovely girl waste herself on a Murphy. And waste herself she would if Eileen didn't step in and steer her in the right direction.

    'I've heard a rumour, Christine, and that rumour is that you are trailing after Phillip Murphy. The Murphys are the scum of the earth, darling. Now, put yourself in my position. If you had a daughter, and I want you to think about this seriously, would you honestly want her wasting herself on a no mark like that?'

    When she was really angry, as she was now, Eileen resorted to the gutter speak. It showed her up for what she really was. 'No mark' was a common expression, and Christine knew that while her mother might believe she was better than everyone, she had been born over a newsagent's in East London. The shop her husband now ran had been bought with the proceeds of that newsagent's. That she still looked down on everyone around her was a constant source of irritation to her only daughter.

    Looking squarely at her mother, Christine asked sarcastically, 'What's a "no mark", Mum?'

    Her mother's hand shot out and physically knocked her across the room. Then, grabbing her daughter's hair, Eileen dragged her into the downstairs toilet. Pushing her face against the mirror, she screamed, 'Look at yourself, you stupid girl! You could have anyone, do anything with your life.'

    Christine was not going to cry, no matter what, so, pulling herself from her mother's grasp, she said, 'What, like you did, you mean?' The words were quietly spoken, but the implication was there for anyone to hear.

    'You nasty little mare. After all I've done for you…'

    'That's all I've ever heard, Mum, all me life, what
you've
done for me. Well, I wish you hadn't bothered, because I want out of here.
Sooner
rather than later, and I know you don't like Phil, but that's half the attraction. I'd shag a tramp if it got me away from you.'

    Christine knew then that she had finally gone too far.