by Martina Cole
Veronica wasn't sure who was shocked the most, Eileen Booth, who was suddenly very quiet, or she herself at her reaction. She still felt the urge to wring Eileen's scrawny neck, really lay into her. This wasn't like her at all; Veronica had mellowed with age, there was a time when she would have wiped the floor with this one from the off and never given it a moment's thought. But it was good to know that she was still capable of a fight should the need arise.
'I want my daughter, and I am not leaving without her.'
Veronica was tired suddenly. She could see Eileen's dilemma better than anyone; after all, she had been there herself. 'Well, in that case you should have packed a bag, because you'll be here for a while. She won't go home, and it's not for want of us lot trying. I know she should be with you, I ain't a complete fool, but if you can't see how your actions have driven that child away then I don't know what to tell you.'
Veronica understood Eileen Booth's complete bewilderment. But she also knew that this woman had not exactly helped the situation. If anything she had only made it worse. If she had just tried to give a little leeway, but that was not her style. Like Veronica had believed with Breda, this stupid woman thought she could tell her daughter what to do. Well, those days were long gone, girls these days had choices. And like many a girl before them, their age practically guaranteed they would make the wrong ones. Always the wrong ones. It was a pattern that seemed to come with hormones and breasts. Overnight they looked like women, but that didn't mean they were.
The two women stared at each other for a long moment. Eileen Booth knew that she was beaten. Knew that this woman had her daughter's trust, her daughter's respect. Her face crumpled, her hurt and fear for her daughter shining through her heavy make-up. 'I only ever wanted what was best for her, that's all. I wanted her to have a chance in life. The chance to make something of herself. The way you all act you'd think I was trying to fucking hurt her. She's still a child.' It was the plaintive cry of many a woman before her. It was the cry of a woman who was not only at the end of her tether, but also of a woman who had finally run out of options. She was defeated, and she knew it.
Veronica brought her through to the kitchen and sat her in a chair. She made the pot of tea quietly, aware that the best thing she could do now was let this woman get it out of her system. Let her have her say, let her expend her hatred on her, a stranger. Veronica didn't care, knew this had to happen at some point, and personally she would rather it happened sooner rather than later. It was pointless delaying the inevitable.
As she listened to the vitriol of the woman before her, her mind wandered to her own feelings for Breda who had been uncontrollable at thirteen, let alone fifteen. It was hard to admit, but Veronica knew it was not something she could have ever prevented. It was just Breda's way, she had always been a law unto herself. She had seemed unaware of how her actions affected the people around her, nor had she cared how her behaviour was received. Whereas Eileen's daughter was only rebelling against her mother- nothing else - but Veronica wasn't about to say that just yet. With Breda it had been different, she had just wanted her own life, her own sex life anyway. Veronica placed a mug of tea in front of the woman she knew she would never find it in her heart to ever like.
Eileen was looking around the kitchen, impressed despite herself at the grandeur of the surroundings; it was the last thing she had expected, if she was honest with herself. In spite of her anger she felt a grudging respect for Veronica Murphy. The place was spotless, well decorated and had top of the range appliances. In Eileen's world that was all that mattered. Top show, as her mother used to say. Well, as far as she was concerned, how you lived was important; she knew that from years of being ashamed of her home, of her parents and their preference for drink, bingo and the attitude that it was enough just to make a living. She had wanted far more than that. And yet her dream of respectability had not made her any happier. How ironic was I hat?
'Look, Eileen - can I call you Eileen? - Christine is terrified of you and what you did to her. She's at school now, she hasn't missed a day, but you have to believe that this was her choice, not mine. I never wanted this on my doorstep, why the feck would I? My Phillip might not be what you want for your daughter, but he's what she wants, and she seems to be what he wants. If you want my advice, swallow your anger and try and talk her round. Try and see it from her point of view, like. Kids have all sorts of rights these days, didn't I find that out meself with my Breda? The shame and degradation of that one, up and pregnant and still at school, and the social workers behind her, all on her side, acting like what she had done was normal! I didn't even have a say in the end. I watched her nearly destroy herself, but my opinions counted for nothing. So you are preaching to the fecking converted. What I want is for you and Christine to sort yourselves out.'
Eileen felt she could sympathise with the woman now. She could hear the genuine sorrow in her voice. Coupled with the knowledge that Veronica was capable of giving her a serious clump should she feel the urge, Eileen Booth felt it best to retreat on this occasion and try and make some kind of concession. After all, this was the Murphys they were talking about, and their name was a byword for villainy and assertiveness around these parts. So sipping the tea she said sadly, 'I only wanted what was best for her, Mrs Murphy, and this is how she repays me? The treacherous little mare.'
This was more like it, this was language she could understand. Veronica flapped her hand in agreement. 'Sure, they all think they know what's best for them! But I tell you, if they only knew the truth of love and marriage, they would think twice about it. I know I would.' She was telling the woman what she wanted to hear.
Eileen Booth latched on to the woman's words as if they were a lifeline. 'That's what I've been trying to tell her. There's plenty of time for all that. She has a brain in her head, my Christine. She could make something of herself, make her life worth something. Ten years from now she could have the job of her dreams, the qualifications to take her anywhere she wanted to go in the world. But at the moment she just wants him, can only see him, him and his handsome face. And I mean that with no disrespect, but she wants him before she understands what life is really about. Before the disappointment and the regrets set in.'
Veronica sighed, suddenly sorry for this woman, so deeply sorry 'Those two seem intent on doing what they want. He thinks the world of her, I can tell you that much. I've never seen him like this before.'
'She'll be tied down with a posse of kids before she's twenty, and by twenty-five she'll be worn out with child-bearing, and her future will be settled once and for all. But will she listen to me? 'Course not. When she's got a belly full of stretchmarks, and she's robbing Peter to pay Paul to get from one week to the next, she'll wish she'd listened to me, but by then it'll be too late.'
Veronica Murphy didn't answer her, she didn't know what to say. The truth, as she knew herself, often hurt. And this was one of those times.
* * *
Chapter Fifteen
Keith Kenton liked Phillip Murphy, and the knowledge surprised him. Not a man to be easily influenced, he normally took his time sussing people out. But this young lad had impressed him with his quiet demeanour, and his natural affinity for the work in hand. Every now and then, you were lucky enough to find a Phillip Murphy, and if you used your loaf you took them onside. Phillip had the rare ability to hurt people without a second's thought; he wasn't a fool, he just saw it for what it was, a job. Keith felt the boy's natural aptitude for the game, and he was willing to nurture it. Get them young, and you could shape them properly. It was the law of the pavement.
Keith was a big man, in stature and in personality. He was known for his ability to fight his way out of any situation, for being, like Bantry, a loner and, most of all, for his reputation as a ladies' man. Keith liked the fairer sex, and it was fair to say that they, for some unknown reason, liked him. Not the most handsome man in the world, he had over the years perfected the gift of the gab. He could talk a girl round in unde
r fifteen minutes, and he had the respect of every man who knew him because of it. Women fell for him; his charm, his generosity, and his sense of humour never failed to get him an in. He was always on the lookout for a bit of strange. A new conquest. It was part of the game of life as far as he was concerned. Unfortunately, the women concerned all assumed they were the only ones in his life, and it was only a matter of time before they realised that he was a romancer. Until then, though, he made sure they had the time of their lives. Consequently, Keith was always trying to avoid some female. More often than not that person was his long-suffering wife Lorna who, for some reason, always ended up forgiving him and taking him back.
Phillip Murphy was impressed despite himself; some of Keith's birds were well fit, and so obviously out of his league looks-wise, you could only bow to the master. He could charm the proverbial birds out of the trees and, in his case, into his bed. Trouble was, once they had landed there, he lost interest in them. It was the chase that got him going. The capture, unfortunately for the girls concerned, was the beginning of the end.
So Phillip was getting an education that was two-fold: he was learning the pitfalls of juggling more than one bird at a time (something that in all honesty didn't appeal to him) and how to collect protection money with the minimum of fuss and the maximum of goodwill. Keith made the people he collected from feel that he was doing them a favour and, in his own way, he was. After all, if they still didn't pay up when he turned on his good-natured patter, he was capable of killing them if the need arose or if he needed to set an example. Any trouble in the premises he earned off was sorted within twenty-four hours, if not sooner. And the perpetrator was given a lesson that would stay with them for a lifetime.
Scars, according to Keith, did that to people - especially cowards. A cut face, or the loss of a few teeth, were a constant reminder of their stupidity and made sure that the offender never saw fit to repeat his actions. Keith had a way of making it perfectly clear that a second offence would not be tolerated. As he explained to Phillip, it was the principle as far as he was concerned; he would not allow anyone to cause him the aggravation of having to look for them more than once. By then all his goodwill was used up, and all that he had left was the need for retribution.
Phillip Murphy was soaking it all in like a sponge. This was a whole new world to him, and he loved it. Every second of it. As his father said, he had started at the top, with the best, and there was only one way for him to go, and that was up. He liked Keith and his attitude towards life, and he liked working with him. He knew that Keith respected him. He also knew that Keith understood his association with Bantry, and respected it. Keith did not suffer fools gladly, so his relationship with his mentor could only enhance him and his chosen career.
Life was pretty good. Things were going well with Christine too. This feud with her mother couldn't be better; he was sure that if he sat it out Eileen would drive her daughter even further into his arms, thereby giving him exactly what he wanted. It was criminal really, how easy it was. He had her dad onside now as well; he was providing him with certain alcoholic beverages that were making him a very good profit, which made Phillip indispensable to him.
She was going nowhere, his Christine, she was his, and he would make sure that everybody knew that eventually. She was the only one he wanted and he had his pick of strange. But he had no feelings for anyone else. Unlike Keith, now he only had eyes for his Christine. He mustn't hurt her, or chance driving her away. She was his all.
Christine was, in actual fact, like an illness with him; without her in his life he didn't know how he would cope. She was like a cancer, eating away at him, and he knew deep inside himself that it wasn't natural to feel so strongly, and so intensely, for another person. It wasn't natural to want someone so desperately, but he would happily kill to keep her beside him. His feelings for Christine were so overpowering they even frightened him at times. The thought of being without her was enough to make him feel suicidal, not that he let those emotions show. He knew only that she was his, would always be his, and he would ensure that she stayed by his side - no matter what.
* * *
Chapter Sixteen
Christine Booth was in her element. She was loving the attention she was getting from all and sundry. She was the envy of her friends, and she had been catapulted overnight into the role of most popular girl in the school. Of all the girls they would have imagined having had the guts to move into her boyfriend's house at fifteen, Christine knew she would have been classed as the rank outsider. Now it was common knowledge that she was actually living with Phillip Murphy, in his parents' house. And he was not just any young lad either, that would have been shocking enough in itself. But she was living with someone whose family was synonymous with villainy. Christine was suddenly being treated like a movie star. People wanted to be friends with her now, wanted to be seen to be friends with her.
Christine didn't give a toss who knew about it, it was like she had been let out of prison. She loved the Murphy family, even Breda, who was a hardcase. Loved the way they rallied round to help each other out. Loved the sheer enjoyment of life that his family seemed to embrace on a daily basis. Loved that Phillip was so protective of her, and agreeable to what she wanted.
But most of all she loved the way he crept into her room of a night, and made her feel like a real woman. The first time he had come into her bed was because she was crying and he had come in to comfort her. He told her he would always be there for her, and that he loved her. Now he came in because she wanted him to. Needed him to. It was as though she had been let in on this great big secret, and now she could cope with anything the world threw at her. She was without fear, she lived for Phillip, and his touch, his words of love, and the feelings she was now unable to do without. She knew instinctively that he wasn't using her in any way, that he felt the same as she did.
His taking her had given her a new persona: she was suddenly sure of herself, suddenly she was different. She knew what she wanted in life, and what she wanted was him. His name gave her cachet, made people treat her with respect. He wanted her and wanted to marry her, and marry him she would, as soon as possible. She was determined to shrug off the Booth name, and become a Murphy. She wanted to be a part of that family so badly, to be free of her mother's constant criticism and constant vigilance. She would finally be her own woman.
Woman being the operative word. Christine felt taller, slimmer, prettier now than she had ever felt before. She wore make-up, and the clothes that she liked, not what her mother thought was appropriate. She looked forward to going home, to his home, for the first time in her life. Having had this taste of freedom she knew she would never go back to being a nobody again. She was Phillip Murphy's intended, and becoming his wife was now the height of her ambition. If her mother didn't like it, then she knew exactly what she could do.
She hugged herself mentally, thrilled with the turn her life had taken when she had met up with Phillip Murphy outside the off-licence on that dark winter's night. It was fate, they both knew that then, and they had both accepted it. Now it seemed, her mother would have to accept it as well.
* * *
Chapter Seventeen
'You think she'll be all right then, do you, living with that scum?'
Teddy Booth looked up as his wife spoke and felt a deep sorrow for her. It was the same sorrow he felt inside himself. His daughter had been like a lamb to the slaughter, and it was because of this woman before him. She had forced them into this situation, and now they would pay the price for it, one way or another. This alliance his daughter had made would cost them all, and cost them dearly. He knew more about their daughter's future in-laws than Eileen did; he had watched Phillip Murphy grow up, as he had many of the boys on that estate. Ted had been there for over twenty years. Unlike Eileen with her part- time teaching job and her belief that she was too good for the estate that they earned their living from. Unlike her, he knew everyone's pedigree on that estate, it was how he
had survived so long, if only the silly bitch had bothered to see that. Between them they could have really got on and made a real difference to their lives; all it would have taken was some effort on their part. Well, her part, anyway.
How the mighty had fallen, though! Ever since she had arrived home two weeks previously, scratch marks on her neck, and her head drooping with defeat, Ted had listened to Eileen's complaints, had comforted her as best he could, but he had known that she was beaten. Well and truly beaten. Her daughter's behaviour was now common knowledge and there was nothing she could do about that. In fact, she wasn't even asking him his opinion, she was simply talking out loud. She had never really expected an answer from him. Not for a long time anyway.
Ted wanted to help his daughter; he missed her and, even though she popped into the shop occasionally when she knew her mother wouldn't be there, he found the house empty without her. He loved his girl, his only child, and he wanted to see her happy. He understood why she was doing what she was doing, even though it broke his heart. So despite his true feelings he said brightly, 'He seems to be doing well for himself though, Eileen, he's already helped me enormously with the shop.'