Nancy nodded.
‘Scott, do me a favour and drop Alex off home, will you,’ she said, before addressing Alex directly. ‘I can’t have you here in this state. Go home and sort yourself out. Take some time off,’ she said, dismissively. Her mind made up of what had to be done here.
Alex didn’t bother to argue. He knew that he’d gone too far this time.
Sensing the looks of pity that were being thrown her way from the workforce, that Nancy was here contending with this bullshit when she clearly had more important matters to deal with right now, Nancy made a point of standing taller. Her head up, her voice loud and assured as she addressed the room. She hadn’t come here for sympathy. She’d come here to get this place sorted out once and for all, and Alex Costa had just made things ten times easier for her.
‘From now on you all answer to me. Nothing and no one comes in or out of this place without you running it past me first, do you understand? I’m running things around here from here on out.’
Seeing the sea of faces around her nod in agreement, she finally relaxed. ‘Good! Now someone do me a favour and get this shithole cleaned up!’
Chapter Eight
‘Joanie, you’re staring at a blank screen, you silly old fool.’ Coming through from the kitchen, clutching his pint of ale in his hand, Michael Byrne was happy from his fill of the lovely dinner that Colleen had made for them all. He’d been looking forward to retiring to the lounge for the evening and watching the footie in peace, only, Joanie had beat him to the television set it seemed.
Sitting on the settee, her eyes fixed on the blank screen that she hadn’t even bothered to turn on, a minor detail that Michael doubted Joanie had even noticed. The woman wasn’t with it at all and her behaviour of late was really starting to unnerve Michael.
At first he’d made the most of his wife’s sudden melt down. Embracing the fact that Joanie was preoccupied, so entangled in her grief to pay him the slightest bit of attention. It felt so liberating suddenly that Michael could do and say as he pleased without Joanie breathing down his neck every five minutes, scolding him, and trying to control his every action. It had been almost amusing watching this strong, fiery, woman reduced to nothing. Meeker than a little mouse. No longer shoving her opinions down all of their throats. No longer henpecking him into doing a million little jobs around the house each day, just to keep him busy and make herself feel as if she was the one in control.
Joanie had always been the one in control, but not any more as it would seem.
Jimmy had been their only son. They’d tried for more children after him, but they’d never succeeded in producing one. Michael had always thought that it was a blessing, to be honest. He never really took to parenthood. As a baby, Jimmy only ever wanted his mother’s affection; he had no interest in Michael. So Michael had left Joanie to get on with it. Spoiling their one and only child. Plying him with every toy, the latest fashion. Showering him with love and attention.
Whatever Jimmy wanted, little Jimmy got and, as the years had gone on, the worse it had become.
His Joanie had created a monster.
Saint fucking Jimmy.
A spoilt little shit, that had grown up to be a bully and an intimidator. Even as a grown man, Jimmy had never found out what it was like to want something. To really want something. Not like Michael had spent his life doing. His Jimmy had everything handed to him all his life on a silver platter by Joanie.
The woman had lived solely for him. Him and their two grandchildren, of course. Nancy and Daniel. But even the grandkids weren’t able to soften the blow of Joanie’s grief.
The woman had become nothing more than an empty shell.
Not eating, not sleeping. She barely even bothered to speak.
Oh, and how Michael was enjoying every second of her beautiful silence so far. Only, the woman’s moping and self-pity was starting to become tiresome. Joanie was practically rendered useless. No longer house-proud, the woman didn’t bother to clean and tidy their home any more, nor did she prepare and cook any of their meals.
Though all wasn’t lost. Colleen had taken over where Joanie had left off, and Michael had to say that, so far, he was impressed. After all the years that Joanie and Jimmy had spent treating his daughter-in-law as if she was worthless – nothing. The pair of them had taken great delight in berating and taunting the woman for the entire time she’d been part of this godforsaken family. Joanie especially. Yet, Colleen must be a better woman than his wife could ever be.
Not only had she stepped up to the plate now that Joanie needed help, the woman had done it so graciously. She hadn’t held a grudge, or taken her opportunity to throw everything back in Joanie’s face, which, by all rights, she could have done. No one would have blamed her, not after everything she’d endured and suffered at the woman’s hands.
Michael had seen the extent of the poor girl’s bullying and mistreatment with his very own eyes. For years she’d suffered the brunt of Joanie’s sharp tongue and cruel ways.
It took a strong woman to let that go.
Which was exactly what Colleen had turned out to be. Colleen Byrne had shown her true colours and Michael, for one, was pleased. Not only did it show her strength of character but it also saved him from the effort of having to do everything for himself. Colleen had stepped up and was doing a great job of holding things together, and for that alone he felt eternally grateful to the girl.
Colleen had changed beyond recognition these days. No longer drinking or taking any medication, she was totally clean. The tension between the two women had completely disappeared in an instant too. Colleen hadn’t even thought twice about looking out for Joanie, especially after she’d seen the state the woman was in. Joanie was barely able to look after herself, let alone any of them.
That’s when Colleen had really come into her own.
Taking over where Joanie had left off, the woman was a natural. Not a bad little cook either, Michael had thought. Having spent the week feasting on dishes like pie and mash and shepherd’s pie, just simple meals, mind, but Michael Byrne was a simple man and that suited him just fine.
But Colleen was out in the kitchen now, clearing up after dinner so that meant Michael was going to have to deal with Joanie himself.
‘Come on, Joanie, love, why don’t I run you a nice hot bath, eh? You can go and have a soak and then fix yourself up a bit,’ Michael said softly, trying his best to snap his wife out of her permanent sombre mood.
He stared at the woman that he’d been bound to for all these years. Till death us do part. The words more like a threat than a promise, permanently hanging over him. Joanie looked so small and vulnerable sitting there, her tiny frame swamped in her huge dressing gown. A trail of gravy all down her front. Her hair matted, flat, to her head. Her skin lined and grey looking. It was as if Michael was only seeing her for the very first time. She looked old without her usual face full of make-up and her hair styled to perfection. It was as if Jimmy’s death had aged her. Gone was the glamorous old Joanie. In her place sat an old, haggard woman.
Only a week since Saint Jimmy’s burial, though to look at Joanie it could have easily been a decade.
Joanie looked broken beyond repair, and Michael almost felt sorry for her. As much as Joanie and Jimmy’s relationship had riled him over the years, the woman was lost without him.
‘Come on, love,’ Michael said, hoisting Joanie up onto her feet, guiding her out of the room. ‘You’ll feel better if you make a bit of an effort. Sitting around all day in that filthy dressing gown is enough to give anyone depression. Me ’en all seeing as I’m the one that has to bleeding well look at you. Come on, let’s get you up those stairs, huh?’
But Joanie didn’t move. Instead she just stared at her husband as if the man had two heads growing from his shoulders. As if she’d just woken up from a sudden trance, her eyes boring into the man that she’d spent most of her life with. Reading him, just as she always had done, like an open book. The man was that tra
nsparent she could see the wall behind him.
‘I’ll feel better, will I?’ she scoffed. ‘Is that what you want, is it? Me to feel better. How selfless of you.’
Michael was quiet then. Unsure what his error was this time; he’d only been trying to help. He didn’t know why Joanie was so suddenly angry with him.
‘Come on, Joanie, I just thought it would do you good…’
Women. He’d never understand them.
‘There’s not another reason that you’re trying to shoo me off upstairs, out of the way, is there?’ Joanie said, raising her voice, before grabbing at the remote control on the table, and frantically pressing the buttons. Changing the channels until she found what she knew she would.
‘Oh would you look at that, Michael. The football’s just about to start. Fancy that,’ Joanie spat. Staring at her husband in disgust. She knew exactly what Michael Byrne was all about. Making out as if he gave two shits about her when the only person Michael ever cared about was himself.
‘Oh come on, Joanie. So what if my match is on? You know I’ve never missed a game,’ he said, caught out. Though he had no idea why he had to apologise for simply living his life.
‘Yes, Jimmy’s dead. By Christ don’t I know it. He was my son too, Joanie. But we can’t all just fall apart over it, life goes on…’ As soon as the words left his mouth, Michael knew he’d made a grave mistake as his wife locked eyes with him, the disgust and anger etched on her face.
‘The gall of you! Standing there with a pint of ale on the table next to you, and that jovial look on your face as you eagerly await your next football fix. You don’t give two fucks that our only child has been murdered, do you?’ Joanie spat, doing all that she could to stop herself from smacking the man’s head clean off his shoulders. ‘Why aren’t you suffering, huh? Why aren’t you a broken man now that our son is dead?’ Joanie was screeching now. Her face turning a deep puce; her eyes flashing with the anger and torment that had consumed her since she’d watched her one and only child placed down in the ground. ‘Dressing your so-called concern up like sympathy, Michael, making out that you’re doing your best by me, when you and me both know that the only reason you want to pack me off upstairs to the bathroom is so you can watch your stupid bloody football match. Nothing has changed for you, has it? Life just goes on the same as always. You’re one selfish bastard, do you know that? You never gave a shit about my Jimmy.’
Unable to control the rage that surged through her then, Joanie launched herself at her husband. No longer in control of her actions or emotions, as every morbid, desperate feeling poured out from inside of her. Her anger exploding with every slap and punch that she administered to the back of her husband’s head, as he fell to the floor under the force of the attack.
‘I wish it was you that was dead. Not my Jimmy. Not my boy.’ Sobbing now, a trail of snot hanging out of her nose. Her eyes flashing with pure hate. Her fists locked as she continued to lash out. ‘I wish it was you that died instead of him. I wish you’d been bastard murdered!’
‘Get off me, you mad fucking bitch,’ Michael squawked, trying to cover his head with his arms to protect himself from the torrent of blows that the woman was raining down on him. Shocked at the force of strength behind them.
‘Jesus! What’s going on?’
Colleen was in the room then, too, unable to believe what she was witnessing, the sudden commotion as her two in-laws physically fought in the middle of the lounge. Michael was trying desperately, without success, to restrain his wife, which only made Joanie screech and hit out more. Wild like a banshee, as if she wasn’t even aware of what she was doing.
Colleen pushed her way in-between the couple. Using her body to try and shield Michael as she grabbed hold of Joanie’s shoulders.
‘Joanie, darling. It’s okay. I’m here, Joanie. It’s okay.’ Staring at the older woman dead in the eye, Colleen kept her tone soothing and calm as she coaxed her back down from her rage.
It worked.
She could see it in Joanie’s eyes immediately, how the woman’s expression suddenly changed as she snapped out of her trance-like state. Staring down at Michael, she looked momentarily confused, as if wondering how he had got there. Why he was cowering on the floor. His hands still trying to shield his head, a trickle of blood dripping from his nose.
Then she started wailing loudly.
She’d done this?
What was happening to her?
Joanie shook her head, she felt dizzy. Light-headed. She had no recollection of attacking the man in front of her. None at all.
‘I didn’t mean to… I don’t know what happened…’ Her voice small and pathetic as she continued to sob. Her cries filling an otherwise silent room.
‘We know you didn’t, Joanie. You’re not yourself at the moment, that’s all. Come on, love, let’s get you upstairs. I’ll run you a nice hot bath and then you can have a little lie down.’ Seeing the angst and the confusion on the older woman’s face, Colleen offered her a small comforting smile.
Joanie didn’t argue this time. Nodding her head obediently she allowed her daughter-in-law to lead her from the room. Exchanged a look with Michael as she passed the man; Colleen’s concern for the woman was clear in her eyes.
Joanie really wasn’t right at all.
‘I’ll make sure she’s okay,’ she mouthed before closing the door behind them.
Alone now, Michael Byrne collapsed on the sofa. His head throbbing as he wiped the remnants of blood that had splashed down onto his top lip, away with the back of his hand.
The woman had fucking lost the plot.
If it wasn’t for Colleen coming to his aid just then, she would have probably battered him senseless. Talk about irony: the only person that seemed to be capable of getting through to his wife had been the one woman that Joanie had spent a lifetime hating.
Michael just hoped that his daughter-in-law could talk some sense into his wife because one thing was for sure: he didn’t know what the hell to do with her any more. Joanie was getting worse and worse with each passing day.
Downing his much-needed pint in one, Michael Byrne shook his head in despair.
Joanie Byrne had been a mad bitch before their son’s death, but now the woman was well and truly off her fucking head.
Chapter Nine
‘Oi, I saw that!’ Bridget Williams shouted as she clocked the new girl, Ruth Lewis, trying to pull a fast one.
Leaning over the front desk and dipping into the till, before shoving a twenty pound note down the front of her minuscule knickers. The thieving bitch clearly thought that no one was watching her, but Bridget Williams had been keeping a close eye on the girl and the silly little cow had lucked out today. Suspicious from the off, her instincts about the new girl had been spot on and now she’d caught her red-handed.
‘You thieving little cow! I knew it, you’re nicking money!’ Storming down the hallway, Bridget was fit to kill. ‘Put it back. NOW.’ Grabbing the younger girl roughly by her wrist, Bridget swung Ruth around with the force of a woman twice her size.
‘Ow, you’re bloody hurting me!’ Ruth whined, trying, but failing, to shrug the older girl off her. ‘I ain’t got nothing.’
‘Ladies, calm down.’ Lee Archer stood up from the desk then, trying to placate the two women as they fought; though he might as well be a mute for the amount of attention they paid him.
‘I saw you with my own eyes.’ Bridget shook her head, unable to believe the utter gall of the girl’s barefaced lying.
Ruth smirked.
‘Well, no offence, Bridget, but you are getting on a bit, maybe you need those eyes of yours testing,’ she said with a smug grin, knowing that her comment would sting the older girl, just as she intended. ‘The few regulars you have in certainly do!’
‘Tell her, will you, Lee? I didn’t take anything, did I? You’ve been sitting there the whole time, haven’t you?’ Turning to their minder, Ruth Lewis threw Lee Archer a pleading look, fluttering her
heavily made-up lashes in his direction, hoping the man would use the only two brain cells that he’d been blessed with and help her out.
Lee nodded obligingly. Just as she knew he would, despite the fact that he’d been too busy staring at her arse to notice what her hands were doing inside the till. Men! They were so fucking simple that it was almost hysterical.
‘She’s telling the truth. I would have seen if she took anything.’ Lee Archer shrugged. Hoping that he wasn’t going to have a full scale fight on his hands. He’d only stood in here for the evening to help Daniel Byrne out. When the bloke had called him up and offered him a night’s work here at the brothel on Bridge Street, Lee had almost bitten his hand off for the opportunity. Not only was he working for one of the Byrnes, which was the ultimate job as far as he was concerned, but he was earning a good bit of wedge for tonight too and, on top of that, being surrounded by a host of scantily clad beauties.
He’d even chanced himself at bagging a freebie or two if he played his cards right. But the job wasn’t cracking up to be what he’d envisaged. Women and their fucking theatrics. Lee had never seen or heard anything like the arguing that went on here amongst the girls. This lot were off their fucking rockers. Give him a room full of warring men over bickering women any day. At least with men, they didn’t hold grudges. They said their bit, and then they moved the fuck on.
Unlike these two, who seemed to be caught up in some kind of never-ending grudge.
‘All this bickering ain’t good for business,’ Lee warned, nodding towards the closed doors that lined the hallway next to them. They had a full house tonight and the last thing he needed was two of the girls tearing each other’s hair out while there were punters listening in. It would only take one of the old buggers to mention it to Daniel Byrne and Lee would be out of a job quicker than these girls could get their knickers off.
The Broken_A gripping thriller that will have you on the edge of your seat Page 7