by Martina Cole
Lance opened the safe quickly and, taking a carrier bag from his pocket, he emptied it of everything. It was more than the man owed but that was tough shit now.
He had done the one thing guaranteed to make Lance lose his temper for real.
He had tried to mug him off and he had tried it while his kids were in the vicinity.
He looked down at the man with hate and he said quietly, ‘You can either lose a limb now or I’ll take one of your kids out.’
The man was almost delirious with loss of blood and fear and Lance kicked him savagely in the face to try to bring him round. But all he managed to do was knock him unconscious and he was angry about it because he would have liked to know the answer to that question.
‘Mum’s been to the hospital for tests, Lance, have you heard?’
Lance nodded. Patrick sat opposite him and waited until Annie came into her little front room with the tea tray before continuing.
‘Here you are, lads. Want a biscuit? I’ve got some Bourbons in the cupboard I keep for me guests.’
Pat shook his head.
‘Sit down, Nan, I need to talk to you both.’
Annie sat down, the serious tone of his voice told her all she needed to know. ‘Is it cancer?’ Her voice was low, frightened and full of guilt.
Pat nodded sadly. ‘She goes in tomorrow. They are going to take her breast off and they think she’s got a good chance if they do that.’
He was not comfortable talking about women’s things and he was still in shock that his mother, the strongest person he had known, was ill. Seriously ill, and her still relatively young, with young children. It was wrong, all wrong. Like she hadn’t had enough to deal with in her life.
Lance sipped his tea, blowing on it noisily first. ‘She’ll need help. Me and Nan will take Kathleen in here with us and that’ll make a difference to the household. The others won’t have to watch her then, will they?’
Patrick was surprised at this turn of events but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Lance seemed to understand his hesitation because he said loudly, ‘She worries about her and so she should. She’s not the full ten bob, as we all know. But she also knows that I’ll watch over her and whatever she thinks of me, she knows I have a special rapport with Kathleen and always have. Remember when we were kids and you would always watch Eileen and I always watched Kathleen. Mum will rest easier knowing the girls ain’t got to watch over her and all. Little Shawn will be more than enough for them.’
Annie nodded her agreement. ‘He’s got a point, Pat. She worries about her more than the others.’
Pat sipped his tea without answering her. He knew his granny and he knew that if Annie had Kathleen, it would take the onus off her having to look after the others. She would look good to everyone and she would come out of it all with Brownie points to spare, even though the bulk of the caring would be put on to himself and the girls.
Pat knew where Lance got his more suspect personality traits from. He loathed Annie at times, she was always after the main chance. But he didn’t say that. He was trying to sort this out as best he could. If he didn’t sort this out, he knew that no one else would. He also realised that Annie had not asked any details about the mastectomy or how her daughter was feeling. Or even what the visiting hours were in the hospital. She was seeing how this would play out for her in the future; she would be the centre of attention with her cronies and have something to talk about. She was a user and she always would be.
But he didn’t say a word to either of them and instead drank his tea as quickly as possible and excused himself from their company.
Both of them made him feel dirty and he hated being around them, especially when they were together. Annie Diamond had a lot to answer for, and his brother was just one of the things she had on her conscience.
‘Have you seen Colleen?’ There was something in Christy’s voice that was so urgent it made all the others look at him.
‘No, we thought she was with you.’
‘I ain’t seen her all day. No one has seen her.’
Eileen sighed heavily and looked at Lance who was helping her to bring a bed downstairs for their mother.
He rolled his eyes at her but she didn’t bother to answer her little brother, they had too much going on at the moment. Their mum was getting back from hospital later that afternoon and they thought it would be better if she was in the front room so she could recuperate with the kids around her and feel a part of the household.
It was six weeks since she had had the operation to remove her breast and a week since she had finished the radiotherapy. She looked ill and she was a shadow of her former self but she was a fighter, and that alone was enough to make her children believe she would get better. She just needed to rest now and get back on her feet. That was what they told themselves anyway. The thought of losing her was the biggest fear of all their lives. Since her illness had been diagnosed, they had been aware of just how much they depended on her.
‘Well, I can’t find her.’
‘Colleen is probably round her mate’s, stop worrying.’
Christy sat down on the sofa and sighed heavily, making Eileen laugh. He was such a drama king when the fancy took him.
‘She’ll turn up, she always does. Have you been to the library? She was saying about going there this morning.’
‘Her mates said she wasn’t at school today.’
Lance stopped what he was doing and turned to his little brother.
‘What do you mean? Didn’t you see her?’
Christy shook his head and said in exasperation, ‘That is what I am trying to tell you. I assumed she was with her mates. But they ain’t seen her, no one has.’
Eileen caught the inflection in his voice then and saw he was really worried about her. They were so close and she knew he wouldn’t worry without cause.
‘Didn’t you see her at all today?’
He shook his head once more and his face showed them that he was fed up with repeating himself. ‘She don’t walk to school with me any more, she hasn’t for ages, she meets up with her mates and I meet up with mine. I don’t always see her in school either. We’re in different years, remember. But we always see each other on the way home; we meet up and walk the last part together and we talk about everything, you know.’
He meant their mother’s illness, but he didn’t want to say that. Eileen understood his reticence, they all felt like that about it. Sometimes she was frightened to talk about it too much, it made it all the more real. Reminded them of what could happen and no one could contemplate her dying. Her not being there any more.
‘Have you tried all her mates?’
He nodded.
’Are you sure? There’s no one she might have gone out with, played the hop with?’
He shook his head and then he stood up.
‘I’m going out to have another look about but she never played the hop, and also, she knew Mum was coming home today. She was looking forward to it, so she wouldn’t go anywhere, would she? Especially without telling someone? Use your loafs.’
He was annoyed that no one could see that this wasn’t normal behaviour for his sister, she was always reliable. He was the one who hopped the wag and who got in trouble. Not Colleen, she was a good girl, and he resented them trying to say different.
‘Stay there, Christy.’ Eileen walked out to the hallway and picked up the phone. ‘I’m ringing Pat, see what he says.’
Lance looked at his little brother and, sitting down beside him, he said gently, ‘You sure you don’t know where she might have gone? Is there anyone you might have forgotten about?’
Christy didn’t bother answering his older brother, he just shook his head despondently and sighed once more.
The policeman was looking at Patrick Brodie with interest and it wasn’t because he was reporting a missing person. He had heard about the family and this was the first time he had ever seen one of them close up. They were a legend and this
young PC felt as if he was in the presence of royalty. This encounter would be talked about for a long time to come.
’Are you a bit fucking dense? Go and get DI Broomfield, now!’
The young man didn’t answer; the way Patrick Brodie was looking at him was scaring him and he knew that he should have taken more notice of what he was saying.
’Are you deaf as well as fucking stupid? Answer me!’
Patrick was yelling at him now. The anger was spilling out and he couldn’t contain it, not when this prick was not interested in what he was trying to tell him.
The young man was already hyperventilating and, stepping away from the glass window that was supposed to protect him from the more violent members of the general public he said, with as much bravado as he could manage, ‘I will get a detective down here, sir.’
Pat stood in the reception of the police station and held on to his temper as best he could. All around him were posters about burglars and stupid fucking photos of no one worth a wank and he had been expected to talk to a kid who he wouldn’t trust to go down the shops for him, let alone find a missing person. The place had the filth smell about it, cigarette smoke and lies. He hated them, hated what they stood for and what they meant to other people. He saw a different side to the police than most people and it certainly didn’t endear them to him.
It was nearly midnight and Colleen was still nowhere to be seen. He was worried now, they all were. She wasn’t the type of girl to go anywhere without telling someone first. Colleen was still a kid in many respects; she had never even had a sleepover at a friend’s.
A familiar voice called out to him and he saw that the door leading into the station itself was open and Teddy Broomfield, an old mucker of his dad’s, was waving him through.
‘Come on, son. Let’s have a cup of tea and see what we can do, eh?’
Pat walked through the door, feeling better now that he was actually doing something constructive. He had everyone he knew out searching for her and no one had seen her or heard from her. She was missing. There was no way she would have missed her mum coming home from hospital. He explained all that to Teddy, who agreed with him and who was obviously taking it far more seriously than the little shitbag he had spoken to earlier.
For some reason this just worried him more. It was as if now that he had reported her gone, it meant she really was missing and that she really did need to be found. That she couldn’t get herself home, not without help. He was suddenly aware of how serious the whole fucking situation really was.
Lil knew within twenty-four hours that her daughter was never coming home. She didn’t know how she knew that and she didn’t say it to anyone else, she didn’t voice her thoughts. But she knew. She knew that she would never hear Colleen’s laugh again or chat to her, never hear her singing or practising the recorder.
She just knew she was gone for good.
She knew that if she saw her again it would be to identify her body; there was no way that the girl had run off, left home as the police seemed so convinced of.
Lil had watched Eileen blame herself and her sons blame themselves and had seen neighbours and friends unable to find any more words of hope or comfort.
She cuddled her little boy and she lay on the bed and wondered at a God who could send this to her on top of everything else she had had to contend with over the years. She had refused to see her priest and she was never going to go back for Communion ever again.
Life goes on. That was a saying she had used so many times herself over the years. But this time she knew it was a load of old crap; her life didn’t go on. Not really. She lived from day to day and she hid her heartbreak, her anger and her terror at what might have befallen her lovely daughter from everyone.
But in the night she lived through every nightmare a mother could imagine. Every terrible thing she had ever read in the newspapers or seen on a TV programme was suddenly vivid and real to her, was feasible. Only she wasn’t asleep when she saw these things, she was wide awake.
She wondered whether her baby girl was frightened, in pain, had been raped? Had she called for her mummy at any point? Had she needed her and she had not been there to answer that call?
There was nothing for them to hold on to, that was the worst of it. She seemed to have disappeared into thin air. No one knew where she could have gone or where she could be now. It was as if she had never existed, but they all knew she had. Her clothes were still in her wardrobe and her shoes were still in the cupboard under the stairs. Everything tangible, everything that proved she had ever lived here, in this house, was still in evidence. It was as if she had popped out and would soon be returning as usual. And they all felt that in different ways, she knew that; she watched them as they tried to understand what had happened.
None of them would ever be the same again and that was the thing Lil felt the most. The destruction of her family was so gradual, so complete and she saw it happening and she knew there was nothing she could do to stop it. She had started off hoping for a miracle, hoping Colleen would walk in the door and tell them it was a mistake. But eventually all she hoped for was a body, something to bury. Something to end the speculation that had been a part of her nights for so many years.
At least that way, if they could bury something, they might finally be able to mourn her, might finally find out exactly what had happened to her, and so understand why she had gone. Every Christmas, every birthday, was a reminder of what was missing, what was gone from them. It was the waiting that was the hardest, the waiting for news that could only break their hearts all over again.
Book Three
Non Omnis Moriar.
I shall not altogether die.
- Horace (65 BC-8 BC)
Chapter Twenty-Nine
‘You’ll be forty in a few weeks.’
Pat laughed. He was still good-looking but he had the same ruggedness that his father had possessed. Lil had to admit that even though he was her son, he was a good-looking fucker, and he knew it and all.
‘Well, Mother, I ain’t having a party. We all know what happened at the last one.’
Lil didn’t laugh at that. All these years later it was still raw; she was still not over it. Patrick saw that then and went to her and, as he cuddled her, he said sadly, ‘I’m sorry, Mum. That was a bad joke.’
She shrugged as always, as if she didn’t really care but she did, he knew she did.
‘It was a long time ago. It’s in the past.’
She carried on tallying up the set of books in front of her and Pat watched her for a while. She was a game old bird, no doubt about that, and he loved her. She was a mare but he loved her.
She was a legend in Soho and she made a point of living up to her reputation. He had gone on to bigger and better things over the years but his old mum, Old Lil Brodie, had taken the clubs and made them into goldmines.
She looked up at him over her expensive designer glasses and he laughed again. ‘You look like a glamorous granny.’
‘Oh, fuck off and pour me a brandy, will you?’
He poured them both a drink and Lil sat back in the heavily upholstered chair and, yawning, she said with feeling, ‘Have you talked to Lance yet?’
Pat had been dreading this but he knew he had to tell her. If he didn’t she would only find out on her own. That was, of course, if she didn’t know already and was waiting to see if he told her the truth. It wouldn’t be the first time she had played that one on him.
He shook his head and she saw the thickness of his dark hair and how much grey was now peppering it. It suited him and she wondered at men; they seemed to age much better than women. The things that pointed out their advancing years were the same things that seemed to make them handsomer. It was one of nature’s nastier tricks.
‘I’m waiting for him to come in tonight; I left a message on his mobile.’
She knocked her drink back in one movement and held the glass out for more.
‘Let me do it?’
; Pat was biting his lip. He wanted to tell her to keep out of it but he knew he couldn’t. You couldn’t tell Lil Brodie anything she didn’t want to hear. ‘Leave it with me, Mum. I’ve got it all under control.’
Lil took the glass off him then and, sipping the brandy this time, she sat back once more and looked at him expectantly.
He sat opposite her. She was still an attractive woman and she looked after herself well. He knew she had indulged herself with a bit of nip and tuck. Nothing drastic, just the bags under her eyes and a bit of Botox, to freshen her up, as she put it.
She dressed well, tailored suits and designer handbags. And she liked scarves; expensive scarves that she draped around herself artistically. She kept her hair blond but cut short; an easy-to-manage style that suited her elfin features. He knew she still had good legs; he had seen younger men appreciate them and he knew she liked to show them off in her tailored skirts. For a woman who had given birth to eight children, she looked good.
She was thin though. After Colleen’s disappearance she had never gained the weight back. She ate like a bird and he knew she didn’t sleep enough. But then neither did he.
‘Well, I want to be here when you talk to him.’
Pat nodded his agreement. He knew she was not going to take ‘no’ for an answer and he knew from years of experience that it was better to let her do what she wanted.
‘But keep out of it, all right?’
She smiled. ‘Of course. What do you take me for?’
She saw his face as he raised his eyebrows and she said loudly, ‘Yeah, I know, a nosey old bag.’
They were both laughing now and she yawned, wondering where the night’s events would take them.
‘Billy Boot is a good bloke and he done a lump, Pat. If he said something I would be inclined to believe him.’
‘Even over Lance?’ He said it quietly, already knowing the answer she would give, but having to say it anyway.