The Betrayal

by Linda Tweedie

  This was the second time their viability had been called into question. Joe Malloy had hinted as much and now his bloody sister was saying the same. A strange feeling in his gut made Michael sit up. For fuck’s sake, what was wrong with everyone? He knew he had to do something, but what?

  Michael was the numbers man. He could handle himself well enough in a scrum and he wasn’t shy of wading in where necessary, but he wasn’t, and never would be, a ‘heavy’ like his twin or his older brother. Paddy and Sean would both use any means to get a result and in a situation like the one he was facing, there would be no argument. Paddy would gather the troops and go out and smack a few arses, but that wasn’t Michael’s style and he was out of his depth.

  “Okay, what do you suggest? If you think the situation is that serious, and we can’t capture either of them, what do you propose?”

  “We’ll need to show some force. I’ve had a few strange faces in the club this week and I know at least two were sussing the place out.”

  “So we double up security and at the first sign of any trouble we give out a few serious leatherings. Show that we’re not mugs and that certainly the Coyles are not to be messed with.”

  “Yeah, that’s okay for starters, but it doesn’t really say anything other than we’ve got a huge workforce. Seriously, Michael, I’m not sure what to do. We could start a turf war here and everybody becomes a loser. I hate to admit this, but we have to get Paddy back in.”

  “What do you want me to do? Put a fucking ad in the lost and found column? I’ve had bodies out day and night looking for the fucker, with no joy.”

  “What’s this all about anyway, Michael? I would have staked money that he and Bridget were rock solid. I know they’ve had their ups and downs like any couple, but I honestly never saw this coming,” Marie was upset. She loved her brother, and Bridget truly was the sister she’d never had. This had to be sorted, for the whole family’s sake.

  “I reckon he’ll stay away till the McClelland kid leaves. There’s no way Paddy would entertain that little shit swanning around his home, and from what I can gather, Bridget and Erin have sided with him.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Michael, I thought it was something serious. Just because he lost face, he’s gone on the trot?”

  “It’s serious to Paddy. You know what he’s like. It’s all about respect, that’s how we got where we are and if we’re not careful it’s what will bring us down.” Michael was worried now, seriously worried. He would never want to let Paddy down and he’d spent most of his life covering for Sean. He had to find them, and soon.

  Having Fun

  Christ, he was bored, he thought as he wandered around the small apartment. What a dump. Days filled with booze, coke and sex had blown him away at first, but honestly, the attraction was wearing thin and he was fucking knackered.

  Freedom and lack of responsibility were all very well, but the novelty of sticking two fingers up to everyone had soon worn off. Paddy was used to work, discipline and order. For God’s sake, he had hardly had a day off since he was fifteen and he needed to get back to work. Not only that, he wryly admitted to himself, he missed his home comforts. It seemed the excitement of dirty sex on tap couldn’t make up for a clean shirt and a full English.

  He caught sight of himself in the grubby mirror. Jesus, he looked rough. For a man who prided himself on his appearance, he was in some fucking state. It was time to go back to the real world, well, his real world.

  He was pretty sure that no-one knew exactly where he’d been shacked up or with whom, and he intended to keep it that way. Chantelle was a brahma and if things were different, well? Who knows! But they were what they were, and if she played ball she’d be well taken care of. As long as he could make her understand there was no going back, her days at the club were over. Hopefully she would take this on the chin, but he couldn’t have a constant reminder of his indiscretion, or take the chance she would let something slip.

  “Breakfast,” called Chantelle as she opened the door and placed two McDonald’s bags on the cluttered table.

  “Not for me darlin’, I can’t stomach that shit under normal circumstances, but with a hangover like this . . . Fuck, no.”

  “Drink the coffee and I’ll sort you a pick-me-up,” laughed his companion, all the while taking in the fact that he was dressed and his possessions had gone from the table, his keys and wallet.

  “No pick-me-up, I’ve got to straighten out,” Paddy shuddered at the thought.

  “Are you off somewhere?” she asked, frowning at the man in front of her.

  “I’ve got to get back to work, sweetheart. I’ve stayed away too long. Not that being here hasn’t been off the scale, babes, but I have to go. Got things to do, people to see.”

  “Yeah, of course. We both knew it wasn’t for real, just a holiday romance,” she laughed.

  “Chantelle, come and see me at the club tomorrow morning and I’ll see you alright. I’ll sort you out, make things good.”

  “Look, Paddy, you don’t have to do anything, and I know I can’t go back to work there. Some arsehole would put two and two together and make ten and then we’d all be in the shit. Don’t worry about me, I’m a big girl and I can get work anywhere.”

  “Come in at ten and I’ll you fix up.”

  As the door banged closed, she fell apart. Chantelle would never go cap in hand to anyone, especially not to Paddy Coyle.

  Running downstairs and out into the bright sunshine, Paddy could hardly believe his eyes. The area was like a bomb site. What the fuck was he thinking of? And where the hell was his car? He dreaded to think what state it would be in, as he surveyed the number of burnt-out vehicles strewn about the green.

  Fortunately, across the other side of the road, standing like a beacon and intact, stood his brand new Range Rover, surrounded by a small group of neighbourhood kids.

  “We watched out for your car, Mr Coyle,” spoke a lad of about twelve.

  “We took good care of it, sir,” piped up another gallus young chap.

  “Yeah, we made sure no-one nicked it or keyed it. We done it in shifts.”

  “Thanks, boys, and if I’m ever back down this way I’ll be sure to leave it in your safe-keeping.” Taking two twenty pound notes from his wallet, he handed them to the oldest lad. “Go get yourselves a McDonald’s or something.”

  He jumped into the car, gunned it and sped off. There was no chance he’d have to fork out for his car again because he’d never be anywhere near this place again. Ever.

  “Jesus Christ, Paddy! Where the fuck have you been? And look at the fucking state of you.” Michael was disgusted at the condition of his older brother; older being the operative word. Paddy looked like he’d aged ten years since he last saw him.

  “Never you mind where I’ve been, I’m back now and that’s all anyone needs to know.”

  “We all know who you’ve been with, but why? Bridget’s going fucking ape-shit, threatening all sorts.” His brother was furious at his disappearance but relieved to have him back.

  “Don’t you worry about Bridget. She’ll be fine. And if she ain’t, fuck it, I’ll be off again.”

  “Don’t say that, Paddy, it’s been blue murder. Fuckers chancing their luck, and Sean’s been on the trot almost as long as you have. I need you here.”

  “Okay, okay, calm down. I’m off home to get changed and I’ll be back in a couple of hours, you can fill me in then. What about the McClelland pup? Is he still on the scene?”

  “Yes, as far as I know.”

  “Well, he’s first to get his arse kicked.”

  Paddy made for home to face the music.

  The Worm Turns

  Erin was distraught, standing alone on the pavement outside the registry office. She couldn’t believe what Bobby had just thrown at her. Her father was not coming home? No way would he abandon them; they were family.

  But what if it was true? Paddy was all for loyalty and she knew that, deep down, he felt she had betraye
d him, even though it had been unintentional. Erin had not known that Bobby was the son of Paddy’s sworn enemy, and, much as he loved his new grandchild, he detested the McClellands more. Add that to the fact that her mother had taken a stance against him and it would be more than Paddy could tolerate.

  Could it be true?

  Whatever, she was certainly not being held to ransom by Bobby and if he thought that the news he had just imparted would sway her, he had another think coming. The bloody nerve of him, thinking he could dictate to her. Erin waved down a taxi, jumped in the back and gave the driver instructions.

  “What are you doing here? I thought you were all loved up with Señor Bobby,” laughed Carol.

  “Don’t talk to me about that prat,” stormed Erin. “You’ll never believe what he just told me.”

  “Well, I’m not into guessing games, so spill. What did Mr Wonderful say that’s got you this upset?”

  “He’s only after telling me that Paddy’s left my mum and won’t be back. The bloody cheek of him. As if my dad would tell him anything.”

  “Whoa, where did this come from? And why did Paddy tell him, of all people?”

  “He says he met him in town and Dad told him he wasn’t coming home for dinner, or ever again.”

  “Don’t believe a word of it,” said Carol.

  “Well, he hasn’t been home and my mother is beside herself with worry.”

  “That doesn’t explain why you’re here in the middle of the day. What else has happened?”

  “I’ve just left Bobby at the registry office. He wanted to register Ryan’s birth and I refused. I want the family to be there, to make it an occasion, and that’s when he told me not to hold my breath, my dad wasn’t coming home.”

  “Paddy and Bridget are solid and it’s up to you to decide when and where you register Ryan. He’s your son. Listen, Erin, you’re not going to like this, but I’m going to say it anyway. He’s a player, is Bobby. I know I don’t know him very well, but he really is a chancer. I’ve a feeling that when he gets his name on the birth certificate he’ll be off like a shot. It’s worrying that he may have some kind of agenda about the baby. I hope I’m wrong, but be careful.”

  “When he’s with us, Carol, he’s brilliant, but when there’s an audience he’s a completely different person. And he and my dad really hate each other. I don’t know how I’m ever going to solve that. Did I tell you he wants us to go and live in Spain?”

  “What!”

  “Yes, he’s been going on about it since he got here. He knows my family will never accept him, but he insists he wants to be in Ryan’s life. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Nothing. You do absolutely nothing until you have no doubt that what you’re doing is the right thing, and from what you’re saying that’s certainly not what’s happening at the moment.”

  “You’re right. I’ll sort things out in my own good time. If my dad’s not home next week, then I might register the baby, but that doesn’t mean to say I’ll put Bobby’s name on it. We’ll see.”

  The Prodigal Returns

  “Gran, Gran, Uncle Michael’s here,” young Errol squealed, jumping up and down excitedly at the window.

  “Michael? Your Uncle Michael? At this time of the morning? Holy Mother of God, there must be something up,” and without a moment’s hesitation Lizzie ran out to the car. The windows on the monster were blacked out and the fact that they were also steamed up made it doubly impossible to see into the vehicle.

  “Michael, Michael, open the door,” Lizzie was knocking on the passenger window and calling to her son.

  The occupant, drifting in and out of a drug-induced sleep, could hear his mother calling and for one split second he thought he had died. He appeared to be in some black tomb. It was that grim thought which shot him back to consciousness.

  Fuck, what was he doing here? Passed out in his brother’s car, outside his mother’s house? This was the last place on earth Sean wanted to be. He rolled down the window and faced his concerned mother.

  “Lord above, Sean, you frightened the life out of me. What the devil are you doing sleeping out here? What’ll the neighbours think?”

  “As if you’d give a toss what anyone round here thought,” Sean snapped back at her.

  “Maybe so, but what a state to be in. Get yourself inside and I’ll fix you some breakfast while you get cleaned up.”

  “It’s okay, Ma. I just rolled up late and didn’t want to wake you. I’ll shoot off, I’d better get Michael’s car back to him.”

  “Get yourself indoors and not another word, I’m not standing here arguing with you,” Lizzie turned and made her way back inside.

  Sean had no alternative but to follow her. Even to this day the boys seldom, if ever, argued back with their mother.

  There was something niggling at the back of his head, something that he had to do. Whatever it was, it escaped him for the moment. He was soon tucking into his mother’s famous ‘full Monty’ breakfast. It was probably the first food he’d eaten in days, he couldn’t remember. He’d existed on a diet of whatever drugs were available, washed down with copious amounts of alcohol and, boy, was he paying for it.

  “Uncle Sean, can I go sit in the car ‘til you get ready? Please, I won’t touch anything, I promise. Please?” The young lad was besotted with cars, his head was to be found under a bonnet whenever possible. He pestered the life out of his uncles to go driving with them or if they were visiting his gran, he’d clean and polish the vehicles. There was no doubt when he was older what line of work he’d end up in.

  Sean threw the keys over to the lad, “Go on, but no starting the engine, mind. And no mucking about.”

  Sean still had a niggling feeling that he had to sort something to do with the car, but it eluded his coke-befuddled brain.

  Errol was off like a bullet. He let himself into the driver’s side and was lost in the gadgetry of his uncle’s top of the range vehicle. Climbing over onto the back seat, the young lad fiddled about with the in-car videos and soundtrack. He’d have to get into the boot to change his uncle’s crap music. Just as he was about to disappear between the seats, his uncle Sean appeared.

  “Go get ready and I’ll give you a lift to school,” Sean offered. Anything to get away from his mother and the fear of being confronted by Marie, who, thankfully, was still asleep.

  “I’ll put my bike in the boot, Uncle Sean, I need it to ride home.”

  “Okay, son.” Just as Errol pressed the button to open the huge, cavernous trunk, a vivid flashback hit Sean. The boy! Fucking hell. He remembered with great clarity what it was he had to ‘sort out’.

  He jumped out of the driver’s seat and bolted to the back of the car. Thankfully, Errol was still struggling with his bike. Slamming the boot shut, Sean grabbed the youngster’s bike and threw it on the back seat.

  “Oh, no, Uncle Sean! Uncle Michael will go mad. I’m not allowed to put my bike there. Honest, he’ll go off his head.”

  “Don’t you worry about Uncle Michael, I’ll fix him. Now let’s get you off to school, young man.”

  “Are you okay, Uncle Sean? You look a bit funny.” the young lad looked quizzically at his uncle.

  Feel a bit funny? Sean thought he was going to have a fucking heart attack. Christ, that was a near one. He’d forgotten all about that poncey little drug dealer. He’d see about getting rid of him as soon as he got shot of his nephew. What a fucking carry-on. Could he not get a break? he moaned to himself.

  Errol chattered all the way to school and Sean was now regretting having offered the lad a lift. He wasn’t used to kids, and certainly not first thing in the morning when he felt as rough as a badger’s arse.

  “They found his bike and Billy would never leave his bike. He loved it and he’d spent a fortune on it, but he’s been missing for three days now. So what do you think, Uncle Sean?”

  “Think about what?” Sean had obviously not listened to a word Errol had said.

  “What do you think
about my mate going missing?”

  “What mate? And going missing where?” said Sean, exasperated.

  “My mate Billy, he hasn’t been seen for three days. He was punting some gear near Gran’s and he’s gone, vanished. Nobody’s seen or heard from him.”

  “You better not have anything to do with punting gear, my lad, or I’ll personally tan your arse,” Sean warned the boy.

  “No way, I’m just telling you what happened.”

  “Okay, but remember, I’m not joking. So, tell me about this missing pal then.”

  “Well, as I said, he’s not been seen for three days, but his bike was still there. Billy would never leave his bike, he wouldn’t let anyone even have a ride on it. The cops are all over the place. Somebody said he was taken away in a big black car, but I don’t know if that’s true. Are you sure you’re okay, Uncle Sean? You really look funny.”

  Sean dropped his nephew off at the school gates and headed back to his flat in town. He needed to have a snort and work out what the fuck he was going to do. Sean had a strict rule about his home. He never, ever brought anyone back and he never kept anything incriminating indoors. Many’s the fool who’d been nicked, not by stashing their cash or goods in safety deposit boxes, but by keeping a little in reserve under the floor boards, or even more unbelievable, under the bed in case of emergencies! It was a rule Sean never broke, no matter how off his head, or out of control he might get, his flat was as clean as a whistle. In the unlikely event that his place was raided, the filth would find nothing. It also allowed him to employ the services of a respectable widow woman as his cleaner without fear of the old biddy innocently finding something. But this was an emergency, so he cut a couple of lines.

  The disposal of the car and the body through the crusher was an easy enough task. It would certainly not be the first Range Rover to finish up as a metal ashtray. However, Sean reasoned, some nosey fucker might question the destruction of such a new and expensive vehicle. Therefore he decided it would be best done later that night. It was imperative that the vehicle remained hidden until then.