by Martina Cole
Sighing, she went back to making more sausage rolls for the birthday party that she wished she had never agreed to now. Everyone around was chipping in and helping her; making sandwiches, cakes, tarts and quiches. She was providing the ingredients of course, but the way people had rallied around pleased her. Since Janie’s visit she had taken on a new lease of life; she was back in the real world again and it felt good. Even with the baby dragging her down and Lance’s aberration, she was feeling lighter somehow. Her mother’s presence had always hung over the house like a shroud but now, though they spoke on the phone, her absence was like a breath of fresh air. People came round more, stayed longer and there was laughter and joking. Lil had forgotten how her mother managed to dampen everything with a few choice words. Now she was reminded of how different the house could be and even the stab of guilt she felt occasionally because she was relishing having the house and her children to herself wasn’t enough for her to bring her mother back into the fold. She knew her mother would stay away until Lil told her otherwise. Patrick was blamed though the words were not said outright, just implied. Lance was confined to his room so she didn’t have to deal with him too much either. Like her mother, he put a damper on everything. Somehow just his being in a room caused upset and, as bad as she felt about admitting it, she was still enjoying the holiday from the pair of them.
Janie arrived and they chatted together amiably as they made even more food. Covering the plates of sandwiches with tin foil they placed them on the worktops ready for Patrick Junior’s birthday party.
The boy himself was watching the preparations with barely contained excitement. He was going to be ten and he felt the enormity of his party as if it was a living thing. His friends, schoolmates, family and neighbours would all be there. It was unlike any party he had enjoyed before. He not only had a disco but proper food, and adults were invited as well as children. It was a big responsibility he knew and he was nervous about it all. The drink his father had bought was sitting in the hallway in large cardboard boxes. There was alcohol for the grown-ups and every kind of soft drink imaginable for the children. Just looking at it all made his heart race.
Patrick Junior’s only worry was Lance. His mother and father were adamant that he was not going to attend the party as part of his punishment. He knew they were doing the right thing but at the same time Lance was going to miss out on something that would be remembered for the rest of their lives. Patrick Junior knew that he would not enjoy the day as fully because Lance wasn’t there. Lance was a pain and he had done something really wrong, really dangerous, but he was still his brother and he would like him at his party so that in years to come they could discuss it without any bad feeling. To Pat Junior the party was the biggest thing that had ever happened to him in his life and he wanted to share the excitement with Lance. He knew that the party would be the main topic of conversation for weeks to come at school and around abouts. Lance would feel it acutely if he couldn’t join in and that worried Pat Junior. He didn’t want to have to stop talking about it because his brother had missed out, even if it was his own fault. Lance managed to ruin everything without even trying.
Even though Pat Junior felt sorry for Lance, a small part of him was also relieved that he wouldn’t be able to show off in front of everyone, and he couldn’t denigrate it if he wasn’t in attendance; he put down everything that pertained to his older brother. Patrick Junior still had enough heart to feel sorrow for his brother’s plight though. He knew Lance was in bits over his father’s decision to keep him in his room, and although Pat knew that his punishment was for his own good and that missing the event would make him think seriously about what he had done, Patrick Junior instinctively knew that as bad as Lance was, missing the party would cause more problems in the long run than it would ever solve.
Ricky Williams was nervous and his brothers were all worried about the next few days as well. Looking around the room at them, Ricky wondered how he was going to keep them in line once his plans were put into place.
Dave, Bernie and Tommy were quiet as he told them what he had done and what he was planning, and Ricky knew that they looked at him with a new respect. They now saw him as the man he knew he had always been. All he wanted now was the chance to show everyone in their circle of friends his acumen and his strength of purpose.
Ricky looked over the bar and caught the eye of a dark-haired girl in a frilly shirt and, motioning with his hands, ordered more lagers. As she walked to the bar with her hands full of dirty glasses he watched her intently. She wasn’t a great beauty but she had a nice plump arse and he liked that in a woman. She was a bit battered round the edges and older than he had first thought, but she had a nice smile. A wide-open smile that made her look friendly and approachable. He decided he liked her enough to present her with his secret weapon at some point in the near future. Her wink as she poured the pints convinced him he was on to a winner and, as always, his quest for strange took precedence over everything else.
They were in a pub in Kent. Until they were once more welcome visitors in the Smoke they had decided that their best course of action was to lie low for a while. Especially since Cain’s unfortunate little accident. Ricky decided that he liked Kent, the garden of England. He liked the skirt, the pubs and the way the locals left them to their own devices. In fact, he was so enamoured of the county that he decided there and then to buy a drum there at some point in the future.
It felt good to relax properly for once, to just sit in a pub without having to watch the door, observe who was already there and buy drinks for a crowd of people he didn’t even like, if truth be told. The easiness of the regulars here told him that this was a straight pub, a real pub, where people really did come just for a few beers and a bit of a chat. Ricky had forgotten how good that could feel but he was also aware of how good it could feel to be in a pub and know you could give it the large without fear or favour and where people fell over one another to get you a drink. Where you chose the music and the clientele and where you proved to yourself that you were somebody, that you counted.
Not long now and that would be his life once again. As the woman brought over the lagers he gave her a blinding smile and a big tip. Ricky was a great believer in laying down the groundwork first, that way you always got the result you wanted; her ready smile told him he was already halfway into her drawers. Life, he decided, was good. And from tomorrow it could only get better.
Chapter Seventeen
Jimmy Brick had the hump but no one looking at him would have known that. He had his smiley face on today, on account of it being the kid’s birthday party.
He knew, however, that even a kid’s party could turn pear-shaped in their world; alcoholic beverages and short tempers were often enough to start a world war.
His niece’s christening, for example, had led to a murder and a life sentence for his brother-in-law, who had not been invited due to his habit of clumping her one when the fancy took him. He had been outed from the drum they had once shared by himself and a few others, and had taken it in pretty good part. Until Ursula, his sister, had kissed her new bloke in the back garden of the marital home; cue said brother-in-law scaling fence, the shooting, the screaming of the female relatives and the rest of the Sunday sitting in the Bill shop as they took statements.
No, Jimmy didn’t trust even the most innocent of parties or the most innocent of guests. Everyone was capable of a tear-up given the correct set of circumstances; he was convinced of that much. He was determined to make sure that Pat Junior’s party was fight free.
The hall looked fantastic, all banners and balloons. The food was weighing down the large trestle tables and the aroma was killing him. Egg and cress got to him every time and he swiped a few and munched them quickly. The bar was now set up and the DJ, an obvious moron, was ready to rock and roll. Jimmy supervised the placing of the tables and chairs, had a quick fag outside the church hall and then, finally, he relaxed. The kid was lucky to have a party like this at t
en years old; he had not had anything even close to this for his twenty-first. He was a nice kid though, young Pat Junior. He was a sturdy little fucker and he looked like his old man. Was like the spit out of his mouth, as his mother used to say. The other one, that Lance, was a strange cove and no mistake. He was a head case and there was nothing wrong with that, but Patrick had made a point of keeping him away from the day’s celebrations to teach him a lesson. Give him ten years though and he’d be a force to be reckoned with. Missing a party wouldn’t be the highlight of his life’s disappointments, he would lay money on that much. That Lance was a maniac waiting to blossom and, when he did, God help anyone who got in his way.
Lil was listening to her mother with half an ear. As she brushed Kathleen’s hair she marvelled at its softness; in matching cream party dresses the twins looked gorgeous. When they were dressed up, their likeness was somehow even more pronounced although Eileen had darker eyes but, unless you really looked, it wasn’t that noticeable.
‘When I answered the door and saw your man standing there I nearly had a heart attack.’
Annie was pleased to see she finally had her daughter’s attention.
‘What, Pat came round yours? That’s a turn up for the books.’
Annie nodded with what she hoped was a winsome look. She so desperately wanted to get back into her daughter’s good books that she was willing to try anything. She had never felt so lonely in her life as she had the last week or so.
‘What did he say?’
Annie smiled slightly and her heavily wrinkled eyes reminded Lil of just how much her mother had missed them all. She seemed to have aged dramatically and, as Lil looked at her, she felt her mother’s need of her and her family.
‘He just said that Lance was going to be punished and that I would be better off keeping away for a while so you two could sort him out in private.’
Lil was sceptical about that but she didn’t voice her thoughts.
Annie was not going to tell her daughter that Patrick Brodie had read her the riot act; had threatened her with total banishment if she indulged Lance any more or treated any of the other children differently from him. He had told her outright that he didn’t like her and she was only going to be brought back into the fold if she kept on the right side of him. One false move and she was toast, was how he had so nicely put it.
She had readily agreed; she would walk over hot coals if that’s what it would take to get herself back into the bosom of her family. She had stopped herself from going near Lance today, acting as if she wasn’t bothered whether she saw him or not. She wasn’t fooling anyone, she knew, but at least they could see she was trying. As Lil pulled Eileen on to her lap to brush her hair through and put it into bunches like her sister’s, Annie thought that she would die from happiness. Kathleen walked over to her and put her arms up for a cuddle without any coercion from her at all.
‘Nanny.’
Annie smiled in delight at the child’s words.
‘Nutty Nanny Annie.’
Lil could have happily beaten her husband to death for teaching the girls to say that and as she waited for her mother to make a scathing remark she was surprised to see that she was laughing with Kathleen. Really laughing with her and it was such an unusual sight she felt her eyes fill with tears. Her hormones must be on overdrive because she was very tearful lately; the least little thing could set her off. Since Lance had hurt that girl, she had been on a knife-edge and though she knew her pregnancy was the main reason for her mood changes, her son’s actions still gave her sleepless nights.
Eileen was laughing as well now and Lil hugged her daughter to her, thanking God for the twins, as she did on a daily basis. They were little angels and she knew that though every woman thought their kids were beautiful, hers really were. Not just to her, but to complete strangers. People always remarked on them when she took them out; they were such happy children and so friendly and contented that they made a stir wherever they went. And if they had melted Annie Diamond’s heart then they had to be special, because in all her life she had never managed to elicit so much as a smile from her mother and at times that still grieved her.
Pat Junior walked into the room in his new clothes and Lil watched his handsome face as he picked up both his sisters in his arms and chatted to them in a funny voice. In his black Farah trousers and a white Ben Sherman shirt, he looked so grown up she was speechless for a moment. She suddenly saw the young man who was beginning to emerge and she was reminded once more that children were only on loan to you. Before you knew it, they were grown up and getting ready to fly the nest. She so wanted them to feel loved, and wanted them to feel that she had given them a happy childhood. She wanted them to have everything she had never had in her own childhood.
Annie saw her daughter’s face and wished she had some gem of wisdom to share with her on this big occasion, but she couldn’t remember Lil’s tenth birthday, or any of her birthdays, for that matter. They had never celebrated anything and how she regretted that now, for letting her husband rule her, rule them both. She conveniently forgot that she had let him and had become like him. That she had resented the child that had forced her into marriage with him. Annie sighed. You lived and learned and she had been lucky enough to be given a second chance with this daughter of hers and she was grateful for that much.
She wondered if Lil was thinking the same as her as she looked at her eldest grandson, nearly prostrate with excitement at the thought of his party, and thanking his mother over and over again for all the work she had put into it. She couldn’t help wondering if this was reminding her daughter of her own empty birthdays and her own childhood, as it was reminding her.
Annie heard the front door open and Patrick Brodie’s loud voice as he called out for the birthday boy. Annie was still nervous of him and as she made her way out to the hall and admired Patrick Junior’s new bike, she reminded herself she was still on probation as far as her daughter’s husband was concerned.
He winked at her and she smiled at him with obvious relief. He grabbed his wife in his arms and said happily to Patrick Junior, ‘Ten, eh, son. You’ll be eye to eye with me soon. My old man stopped giving me the belt the day I hit eye level. I lamped him one and told him that next time I’d do it when he was asleep and he never tried to beat me again.’
Pat Junior loved it when his father told him stories about his own childhood. As he caressed his new racing bike, he asked him seriously, ‘Did he really hit you with a belt, Dad?’
‘He fucking hammered me with anything that came to hand. Miserable old bastard he was. Still is, for all I know. But the belt hurt, I can tell you.’
Pat Junior looked at his mother then. ‘Did Nanny Annie ever hit you, Mum?’
It was said in jest but he immediately regretted asking because the humour went and she answered flatly, ‘Come on, let’s get sorted. Make sure you brush your hair for the photograph, OK?’
Pat Junior nodded and he saw his grandmother’s face had turned scarlet. He felt the sudden urge to grab his mother in his arms and comfort her, even though he wasn’t sure why. His father got there first, though. He watched with sad eyes as his father kissed his mother gently on the lips before saying quietly, ‘I love you, Lily Brodie, and don’t you ever forget that.’
Pat Junior felt the urge to cry then and his mother, sensing her son’s discomfort, pulled him into her heavy belly and kissing him on the top of his head, she laughed.
‘What a bleeding crowd we are, near to tears on the best day of your life!’
Pat Junior felt his father’s hand on his shoulder and, embraced by both his parents, he wished that the moment would never end. He felt so safe, so protected and loved that he knew he would carry the memory of this moment all his life.
Dave, Bernie and Tommy Williams were drunk. They had been out on it since the morning and now it was early afternoon they were rocking. As they stood at the bar laughing loudly, they were aware of the looks they were getting from the regulars.
They had not been in this pub for a while and they knew that their sudden appearance would have already been reported back to base camp.
It was the day of the big party and anyone who was anyone would be going to the church hall laden down with presents and good-natured bonhomie.
They knew they were safe enough. Pat Brodie wouldn’t be doing a lot today and they had kept a low profile for long enough. Now though, they were all tanked up enough to face young Ricky and his perfectly understandable anger at their need to always be drunk. They would meet up with him eventually, when it suited them, nearer the time. The Blind Beggar public house was packed out, as it was most Saturday lunchtimes. The clientele was an assorted mix of market traders, local shop owners, a few goons and a sprinkling of smalltime Faces.
There had been a time when the name Williams would have afforded them a warm welcome here; free drinks, a decent spot at the bar and the respect their name used to command. Now they were basically being tolerated.
With the drink, mixed with the speed that was coursing through their veins, they felt the cold-shoulder treatment afforded them far more acutely than it actually warranted. They were aware of how far they had sunk and, today more than usual, it really galled them. Seeing people who had once broken their necks for a glimpse of them, who had drunk with them, basking in their little bit of reflected glory, now blanking them so deliberately and, worse still, as far as they were concerned, believing that they could get away with such cuntish behaviour, psyched the three brothers up for what they knew they were going to have to do. Young Ricky was right; he was a shrewdie and no mistake. He knew the ins and outs of the cat’s arse where Brodie and Spider was concerned and he had the edge on his brothers because he not only retained information, he also had the ability to put it to good use. He was a rising star all right and this shower of shite would soon realise that and mend their ways. Ricky was right, they had to do something spectacular, something audacious to get their name back where it belonged.