by Martina Cole
Patrick grinned and his white teeth made him look even more handsome than usual. He had dark Irish looks; his eyes were the giveaway, deep blue, framed with thick lashes that a woman would fight to make her own. He had the square-cut jaw and thick black hair that seemed to have a life of its own. Pat also had the appetite for the drink and that bothered Lil, as did his disregard for anything he felt as beneath his interest. That had been his father’s downfall, not that anyone else would see that, of course. Pat should have kept his own house in order, fuck everyone else’s. If he had sorted the Williams brothers he would still be here now, and Spider knew that as well as she did.
’Are you pregnant, Mum?’
Lil stared into Pat’s handsome face and suppressed the urge to slap his name out of the phone book. How dare the cheeky little fucker ask her that?
‘Well, are you?’ He was talking slowly now, as if she was stupid, as if she didn’t understand what he was asking her.
‘What has that got to do with you?’ It was said with all the indifference she could muster and with all the bravado she possessed.
Pat sighed. ‘So it’s true, then?’
Lil had been dreading this, but she was still surprised that Pat had noticed so quickly. He had girls, but no one ever lasted more than a few days, so he had not even lived through a girlfriend’s or a wife’s pregnancy. He was so cute, he had noticed hers. One part of her wanted to cry because of that, but she wouldn’t, of course. Lil didn’t know what to say to him. She felt guilty, as if she had done something wrong, and that was because she felt she had. It wasn’t him, it was her. Once more, she was giving birth and once more she was having a child that would ultimately become this boy’s responsibility, like the others had. But she could no more dispose of this baby than she could have disposed of any of the others. It was the eighties and there was no longer any stigma for women who had children without the benefit of a wedding ring.
‘I am a grown woman and if I want to have a baby, I’ll have one. You are not my keeper, Patrick. You are my son and you have no right to question me about anything.’
Pat Junior looked into the eyes of the woman he loved more than he had ever loved anyone in his life and he shook his head in distress at her words. The anger she was displaying and the secrecy, the fact she was trying to conceal her condition from him and the other kids, hurt him. He didn’t care what she did, why couldn’t she see that? He loved her no matter what. This was the woman who had cared for him, loved him, visited him in prison and tried to fight his end all those years ago when his father had been murdered. This woman had given birth to two more children with Lenny Brewster because she had believed that they would give her and her kids some kind of security, because she had thought he would take care of her; thus enabling her to take care of them.
She had even sold herself for him and his brothers and sisters; why couldn’t she see that all she had done had made him love her more, not less. Had made him look up to her, not down on her.
Pat walked over to her and, pulling her into his arms, he said sadly, ‘Oh, Mum, I just want to help you, darling, that’s all. You can do what you like, I ain’t going to judge you, am I? None of us would. I just don’t want you coping on your own any more. You don’t have to. I am here now and I will do whatever is needed, OK?’
Lil hugged him and felt the strength of him as he held her close and she knew he meant every word he said to her.
‘Whose is it, Mum?’
She could hear the nervousness in his voice and realised that he thought she was pregnant by Lenny again. He couldn’t even say his name out loud. It would be laughable if it wasn’t so tragic. As if she would be that stupid! And yet once more she was reminded of how she was seen by her children. That this boy, her eldest son, could think that she would even consider sleeping with Lenny again after what he had done to them all was so insulting that she had to fight the urge to smack his face. She wanted to tear at his skin with her nails and make him hurt as he was making her hurt.
Did they really think she was so low, so base that she had been capable of coupling with Lenny again after everything he had done to her, to them?>
She roughly pushed Pat away. Her anger was in check, but for how long, she couldn’t say.
‘You can’t think this is Lenny’s, surely?’
Lil’s voice was low and colder than Pat had ever heard it before. He knew she had picked up on what had been in the back of his mind. He didn’t answer her and it was his silence that told her all she needed to know.
‘I would never ever have given him the time of day. How can you think that I would have been capable of something like that?’
Pat didn’t know how to react to her, didn’t know how to make things right. He knew he had been well off the mark. But he had had to ask her. Especially considering the events of the last few days.
‘No one has said that, Mum. And I don’t care what you’ve done . . .’
Lil sat back on the big leather chair that told anyone who came in that the occupier of that chair was the boss. That chair said that she was the boss of everyone and everything around her.
‘Done? What I’ve done?’ It was that word that hurt more than anything. It was like an assumption of her guilt or her stupidity. It made her feel responsible for something and she wasn’t sure what.
‘You cheeky little fucker, how dare you talk to me like that . . .’
Pat didn’t speak; he knew she had to get it off her chest. He knew he had said the wrong thing and he understood her anger.
‘I did what I could all my life to make things better for us. To make sure you and the others had some kind of fucking life outside of what was said about us, what was assumed about us, after your father’s murder. I had to live through it and protect you lot into the bargain. Your father didn’t even see us all right for a few bob, did you know that? We were left with nothing. It was like we never existed for him or anyone else, come to that, after he died. Do you realise that we could have been taken out? If the Williams brothers had decided to finish us off, that would have been it. I had to fucking make sure we were safe and that meant Lenny. He took them out, for his own reasons, I admit, but he took them out all the same. We were seconds away from death, boy. Your father made no provision for us, fuck all. And now you have the fucking cheek to look down on me, to judge me. And you expect me to swallow an insult like that without attempting to dispute it in any way?’
‘Look, Mum, I just want to help you, that’s all. I don’t give a fuck who the father is . . .’
‘Well, you should and you should also have enough respect for me to ask me straight out and not fucking insinuate. That you could even contemplate that.’
Patrick watched his mother’s anger and hurt and knew that he could not do anything to stem the flow of her unhappiness. So he said what was on his mind and hoped that she would understand his worry about her and his annoyance at her silence over her predicament. He was shouting at her and that was something he had not planned on doing. He just wanted answers and he was going to get them from her. No matter what it took.
‘Well, who is the culprit then, Mum? You tell me because I can’t fucking put the finger on anyone. I just want to know the score, that’s all. You are me mother and I feel a certain responsibility towards you, to all of you. I feel the need to take care of you because whoever the fucking bloke is, he ain’t beating a path to your front door, is he? No one has seen you out with a geezer and there ain’t even any gossip in this dump. So unless you enlighten us, how the fuck are we supposed to know anything? Were you going to wait until it was born or what?’
Lil didn’t answer him. She just stared at him with those big eyes of hers and the guilt he felt was once more in the forefront of Pat’s mind.
‘Look. I didn’t mean any of that. You can do what the fuck you like, you’re me mum. But you have to let me know what’s going on. I want to help, that’s all. I want to make it easier for you. If the bloke needs a fucking talking-to then t
hat is what he will get, believe me, Mother.’
Lil’s anger was gone and she could understand what was wrong with him. But how could she explain that she had been too embarrassed to tell them what had happened to her, that she was pregnant again at her age. Why was she always the one who was caught out? Even with them all grown up she was still stupid enough to get caught and, once more, it was by a man who had no interest in her really. Though in fairness to Jambo, he was willing to do as she asked. But that was only because of her sons; she assumed that was why, anyway. But they didn’t need to know any of that, of course. Lance, whatever she thought of him, was always her biggest champion. Not that it made her feel anything towards him but she knew that anyone who said a word against her was dicing with death. Patrick, however, was more like her than he realised. He understood on some level that she was still a relatively young woman and she needed not just the sex, but the holding part. The aftermath, when she lay beside someone and pretended, just for a few minutes, that someone cared for her and was looking after her for once and not vice versa.
‘I was sixteen when you were born, Patrick. Can you imagine that? I had five kids so fast I didn’t even have time to realise how hard it was.’
She laughed gently. ‘Then the other two, who I love more than anything. They were once more given to me, by a man who didn’t really care about the consequences of his actions. He gave me two kids and it meant nothing to him. And now you have killed him.’ She laughed huskily at the incongruousness of her conversation, of the whole situation.
’All my children are fatherless and both fathers were murdered. Can’t you see the irony in that? One day the youngsters are going to want to know what happened and they still won’t give a fucking toss. Do you know how that makes me feel? Do you? All my life people have taken from me, taken whatever they wanted, you included. All you kids did and that’s because that is what kids do. Kids just take.’
Lil lit a cigarette and tried to relax herself enough to give this son of hers at least a modicum of peace of mind. To make what had happened to them at least mean something to him and to her as well, if she was honest.
‘Now this baby wasn’t planned, Pat. Its father was someone I wanted, someone who wanted me. No love story or big drama to report, just two people finding a little bit of happiness together. And now I am pregnant again and, being a Catholic, having the child and doing the best I can, once more, is the only solution for me. Just like I did with all of you and, be fair, I never had it easy, did I? I’m not saying this so that you will pity me. I am just stating facts, that’s all. But I did the best I could.’
Patrick shook his head, this time with exasperation. Lil could see the way he cared for her and she knew how lucky she was with them all, except Lance, but she didn’t count him as hers. She saw him as her mother’s.
‘Oh, Mum. I have been so worried about you, that’s all. I want you to be happy, you deserve to be happy.’
‘I don’t want any trouble when the time comes. I will tell you everything, well almost everything, but don’t hurt him or threaten him, none of you. I was just me when I was with him. Just Lil Diamond, not Patrick Brodie’s wife or Lenny Brewster’s bird or someone’s mum. I was just me for once.’
She smiled gently then. Her relief that the secret was out made her look almost girlish once more, wiping the lines of fear and worry away with each word she spoke.
‘One last thing, son.’
‘What, Mum?’
Lil stared at him for long moments and he knew she was worried that he was going to lose any respect for her that he had. He waited for her to speak in case he said the wrong thing again. He knew that once he found out the culprit, he would sort the fucker out big time. In private and with a weapon, if needs be.
‘What are you trying to tell me, Mum?’
‘It’s black, Patrick.’
Lance was collecting a debt that had been owed for many years. It was a big debt, fifteen grand. Patrick had bought it for two thousand but only because the person who had borrowed the money in the first place had exhausted every avenue trying to get it repaid. It was now a debt for seventeen thousand as it was not just the original debt that needed to be paid in full but also the money weighed out to purchase the debt in the first place. This was a good debt in more ways than one. It was a cheap debt to buy and so guaranteed a good return and it was also owed by a north London Face who needed to be brought down a peg or two.
Lance wanted to prove himself. He felt the need to show his brother that he could do things on his own and use his initiative and, more importantly, he didn’t want Patrick having any dealings with Donny Barker unless he was present.
Lance knew his absence when Lenny was being outed was being whispered about; the gossip even said that he had been severely reprimanded. His absence had raised more than a few eyebrows, he knew. Kathleen and her problems were not really common knowledge; he knew that because he had made sure of it.
But there was still some talk about her though Lance always made sure the talkers realised their mistake. But Lance knew that he was not seen in the same light as his brother. He was determined to change that, he was determined to give his image a boost. He was going to make people respect him as they respected Patrick.
His brother had been lucky in so many ways; as the eldest, he had possessed the edge from birth. Their mother had always treated him with love whereas she had never once treated him with anything that even resembled love. Lance was convinced that everyone knew that she didn’t care for him and that it was all pretend, that even now, she wouldn’t speak directly to him if she could avoid it.
Lance loved Kathleen with the love he should have given to his mother if his mother had let him. Like him, Kathleen made his mother feel insecure, made her feel she had somehow fucked up, which of course she had. She thought she could pick and choose the children she wanted. Well, she couldn’t.
His mother was the reason for everything bad that had happened to them all and she couldn’t even admit it. So she dumped the blame on him and poor Kathleen. She was pregnant again; she produced children like other women shelled peas and with no shame or care for any of them, really. Another bastard would be produced by her and no one would be any the wiser as to who the father was. She didn’t tell them anything, she didn’t see it as any of their business. The girls, even his Kathleen, were all excited about it and acted like it was going to be some kind of joyous event. Yet not one of them had had the guts to mention it to her until she decided to tell them. Patrick wasn’t even annoyed. He just wanted to know who the culprit was and if she was OK. No real bother about the fact she was knocked up once more, that another child would be produced and, knowing her, neglected. Patrick was so like her, he really didn’t give a toss what people thought or how people perceived them as a family.
Well, one day she would see what she had done to them all, he would make sure of that. Lance knew so much about all of them and he never said a word but that could change, of course. If the need to open up presented itself he would not feel bad about it at all. It would not be the first time he had spilled the beans and he had a feeling it would not be the last.
Donny Barker walked out of his safe house then. Lance slipped out from the car he had stolen earlier that night and, walking over the road nonchalantly, he beat the older man to his vehicle. Donny was alone, a rare occurrence in his world, but, having seen Lance, he didn’t feel any kind of fear. In fact, he smiled in recognition. Anyone observing them would have assumed that they were old mates or at least business associates of some description. But if they saw the look that was on Lance’s face then they would realise that he wasn’t smiling at all. In fact, he actually looked like most people’s worst nightmare.
Eileen and the three younger kids were watching TV as usual. It was Saturday evening and they were all curled up on the sofa watching the A-Team and laughing at their antics.
Shamus, Colleen and Christy were used to being left to their own devices when their m
other was working. It was strange, but they had known from an early age that without her out grafting, their lives would be a lot harder.
Unlike the others, who had been lucky enough to have a father who had been there at least some of the time for them, the three youngest had never had that kind of security.
And now Colleen and Christopher’s father was out of their orbit, once and for all, they didn’t really feel anything about him at all. Lenny Brewster had not really been a part of their lives ever, so his death actually meant nothing to them. The rumours around and about were rife and they had heard a whisper now and again about him but, in actual fact, they were not bothered one way or the other. Eileen knew the score, she had already put two and two together for herself and, like her younger siblings, accepted it as part and parcel of their lives.
She still had the odd flashback to the night her father had been murdered; as young as she was, she still remembered some of it with stunning clarity. This was usually when she least expected it and usually when she really didn’t need the reminder. Pat Junior had never celebrated a birthday since and it wasn’t through want of trying either. Their mum had tried her hardest to make the day a celebration rather than the anniversary of their father’s death. Now though, none of them bothered. Patrick really didn’t want the reminder and, as they had all got older, neither did any of them. Though they had always tried to make an effort for young Shamus’s birthday, despite it coming so quickly after.
Eileen glanced at the clock. She would give it five minutes and then start getting herself ready to go out for the evening. At nearly fifteen years old she knew she looked much older. She also knew that if she didn’t get out of this house on a regular basis, her twin sister’s madness would infect her as well. She would never refer to Kathleen as mad in any way out loud but in her head she could think what she liked and she did. Frequently.