Betrayal

Behold my mother and my brethren!

Matthew 12:49

When lovely woman stoops to folly

And finds too late that men betray,

What charm can soothe her melancholy,

What art can wash her guilt away?

The Vicar of Wakefield, Oliver Goldsmith (1728-74)

Chapter One

1981

Reeva O’Hara’s voice was loud and harsh as it always was when she had what she considered to be an audience. Even at 8.15 a.m. in her local Co-op, Reeva never failed to entertain. Her saving grace was she could be very funny when the fancy took her.

‘So I said, “Go and find your fucking fathers and get some sweet money off them!”’ She screeched with laughter at her own wit and a few of the other mothers in the busy shop joined in.

Reeva’s ever-present cigarette was dangling from her red-stained lips and her distended belly told anyone who cared to look that she was nearly on her time.

Jack Walters, the manager of the Co-op, liked Reeva. She wasn’t a bad girl really – she had just been badly used in her time by the many men she seemed to attract. She attracted him. She was a good-looking young woman with a warm and generous personality and clearly a healthy attitude towards sex – unlike his wife, Doris, who thought it should take place in the pitch dark and as fast as humanly possible. Jack kept that gem of wisdom to himself though; Doris was as narrow-minded as she was skinny. It was like shagging a skeleton.

Doris Walters was looking at Reeva with barely disguised contempt. Reeva was everything she thought was wrong with the modern world.

‘Can I help you, Reeva?’ Doris’s voice said it all and no one was in any doubt that Reeva understood the tone completely.

Reeva smiled a big encompassing smile that completely transformed her face and said loudly, ‘Whatever happened to service with a smile? You’ve got a boatrace on you that could stop a fucking clock!’ Reeva leaned forwards as if they were alone before she bellowed, ‘Caught him with his cock out again, have you?’

Jack Walters closed his eyes in distress as the shop erupted into gales of good-natured laughter.

‘Don’t worry, Doris, it happens to the best of us, mate!’ someone shouted from the queue behind.

Doris looked at the young woman who she loathed with all her being. Hearing the laughter around her, she turned and walked into the back of the shop, as Reeva screamed out once more, ‘I’ll take that as a yes, then, shall I!’

She turned to Jack Walters and said kindly, mimicking his wife’s voice, ‘One will have ten No. 10, my good man!’

The laughter started up again. Jack served her silently, but everyone could see that he was trying hard not to laugh with her.

That was Reeva O’Hara; she was like Marmite – you either loved or hated her.

Chapter Two

Doris Walters felt sick with humiliation. Trust the whore to bring that up in front of the other customers.

Her eyes were burning with unshed tears. She had to swallow the urge to go back out front, pick up a piece of wood and fell that painted trollop to the floor. That’s exactly what she was with all those bloody kids! All different colours, all with different fathers! Yet Reeva O’Hara walked around like she was someone. Hair done, make-up on, attracting attention – Doris saw her own husband looking at her – even though she was ready to drop another bastard on the Welfare State.

But that was it these days: have kids and let everyone else pay for them – honest, hard-working people like herself. They got a council house and furniture provided. It was disgraceful the way these young girls carried on. Whereas people like Doris, who had finished her education, worked, and done it right, were left childless, having to watch as the Reevas of the world dropped chavvies like it was nothing. Which it was to her, obviously. What was this one? Doris screwed up her eyes in concentration for a few seconds. It would be Reeva’s fifth child in twelve years. She had had the first one when she was fourteen years old! Brazen as you like, she’d been – belly on display like she had done something good. She had given birth to four handsome sons, one after the other – and even Doris had to admit in her more charitable moments they were always clean and well turned out. They were polite too which was amazing considering what they had to listen to on a daily basis; that girl had a mouth like a city docker.

Doris Walters’s jealousy knew no bounds when it came to Reeva O’Hara. She was everything Doris loathed, and Reeva O’Hara had everything Doris wanted: good looks, an open personality, and the ability to produce children even after a one-night stand.

Chapter Three

Aiden O’Hara was watching his mother as she doled out sweets to her boys. She was as mad as a box of frogs but she did her best for them – he knew that better than anyone, and he loved her. She embarrassed him at times with the way she carried on, although he knew that it was her way of coping with the world – with her life, in fact. She was a very loving, caring person and, as Aiden saw it, people took advantage of her because of that. He swore that once he was older he would take proper care of her, and look out for her – especially where men were concerned. As young as he was, he saw a lot more than he let on, but he could only do so much until such time as he grew up. For now, he helped her out in any way he could and he looked out for his brothers too.

He was aware they made a strange-looking family – a mixture of different colours and heritages – but they were still that: a family. His mum made sure of it. Father Hagen had once described her as ‘a kind and generous soul’ and, even at twelve, Aiden knew exactly what that meant in street parlance!

She seemed to attract wrong ’uns, as his nan would put it, but she had a spark about her that made people want to be near her. Her kids adored her, and a lot of the women on their street admired her – as much for her stance in keeping her numerous children as because she was clean as anything.

He rounded up his brothers and they kissed Reeva before he shepherded them towards school and another day of drudgery.

Reeva watched her three eldest go. Then, taking her youngest son by the hand, she said with a big smile, ‘Shall we have a cup of tea and a bun in the café? Be a lovely treat, won’t it?’

Porrick grinned happily; he loved being the youngest because he had his mum to himself all day and that was paradise to him.

Chapter Four

Eugene O’Hara, at seven, was already big for his age. His skin was deep black, his eyes were blue and he wore his hair long. He was a quiet lad, but not shy as such.

His teacher, a tall, heavily built woman from Trinidad called Mrs Bonasara, loved him − and she knew that he would have his own crosses to bear as he grew older.

Eugene always sat with Caroline Alba, a tiny, elf-like child with wide, blue eyes and long, blond hair. They were rarely apart but they made for strange bedfellows – not least because Caroline’s father was a dyed-in-the-wool skinhead and racist.

Mrs Bonasara could see the two of them talking to Peter Jones, a tall lad who was already overweight, with the makings of a fine bully. From his prominent eyes to his small, mean mouth he looked exactly like what he was – and his teacher had a feeling he would fulfil this early promise by becoming a vicious and uncompromising man if he wasn’t curbed soon. None of the other children liked him, and that appeared to suit him down to the ground. Peter was a born loner.

Mrs Bonasara sighed with sadness. If only parents really took an interest in their children now and again, how much hurt and sadness could be avoided. She could see Peter saying things to little Caroline and she quietly made her way round the classroom so she could hear what was being said – whatever it was was obviously distressing the poor child. She sighed heavily once more when she heard a whispered, ‘Nigger lover’. No doubt one of Peter’s family’s favourite expressions, seeing as he used it at every available opportunity, but before she could open her mouth to reprimand the lad, Eugene O’Hara, who had also heard the quip, was already launching himself at the much bigger boy.

The noise was loud and frightening to the majority of the children in the classroom. Mrs Bonasara had to use all her considerable strength to part the two boys and it did not surprise her that the one she really had to keep hold of was Eugene O’Hara. She could see the shock and fear on Peter Jones’s face and, against her principles, she felt a small feeling of satisfaction at seeing the bully for once the frightened party.

Mrs Bonasara was holding Eugene against her with great difficulty, so she was relieved beyond measure when Father Hagen burst into the room and took over from her.

Father Hagen was a huge Irishman with a penchant for Irish whiskey and the Bible – in that order. The fact that he was a dedicated teacher saved him from being outed on a regular basis – that and because the children liked him. Without his black clothes and his white collar, he could have passed for a boxer – or a tramp, depending on who was looking at him. But he had a natural affinity with children and he could often get the best out of them.

Mrs Bonasara explained the problem and Peter Jones looked up fearfully at the huge priest who, with a well-timed scowl, could put the fear of Christ up even the older boys.

Father Hagen looked at young Eugene O’Hara and felt a deep sadness. This child had more than his share of burdens and he was a good kid, intelligent and nice natured – it would have taken a lot to make him lose his temper. Although, as with all the O’Hara boys, it was a sight to see when he erupted.

He marched the two offenders from the classroom, aware that it was deathly quiet now. He could feel both boys trembling as he pulled them unceremoniously along to the headmistress’s room. One was shaking from anger and the other from fear. And, just like Mrs Bonasara, he thought it would do Peter Jones good to get a taste of his own medicine.

Chapter Five

Peter Jones had experienced one of the worst days of his life. Not only had he been beaten in a fight, but also his mother and father had been called from work and home respectively and told that he was on his last warning. Racist language and violence would not be tolerated and, on top of that, his mother and father had been subjected to a ten-minute screaming match from Reeva O’Hara that had been heard all over the neighbourhood. Reeva, as usual, was the victor – she could whisper and you would hear her in Silvertown.

He was feeling depressed and frightened of what awaited him at home. His dad was a dope dealer who sat in their council flat all day with his cronies, drinking beer and selling drugs. His mum, in contrast, worked in a factory in Romford and, from her daily complaints, it seemed she worked fucking hard. It was a difficult household to relax in, and he hated both his parents for different reasons. That was why he was in no rush to get home.

The pillowcase filled with baked bean tins hit him full in the face and he dropped to the ground. When he looked up and saw Aiden O’Hara, his heart sank right down to his scruffy, unpolished shoes, but it was when he felt the liquid being poured on him that he really began to get frightened. He couldn’t move, he was paralysed with fear. And when Aiden lit a match and threw it at him, he felt panic and tears erupt amidst Aiden’s laughter.

‘It’s water, you fucking plank! But next time it will be petrol.’

He was punched hard in the head, and Aiden’s voice was serious as he threatened quietly, ‘You ever touch my brother again and I will fucking harm you, do you hear me?’

Aiden left the big fat lump crying bitter tears and he made his way home happy as a sandboy.

Chapter Six

Reeva was over her upset about Eugene; she was a realist and thought it was best to leave it – it would sort itself out naturally.

She was cooking them a big tea – she liked to cook and her children were always given a decent meal in the evening. Tonight she had made them a family favourite: shepherd’s pie with cheesy mash on top and fresh cabbage. The smell was appetising, and she had no doubt they would all want second helpings.

After they had washed their hands and faces, she surveyed her sons as they sat quietly at the table waiting for her to serve them their meal. She felt a sudden rush of love for them – they were so alike yet so different.

The baby kicked and she absent-mindedly rubbed at her belly for a few seconds before she dished up. She watched her Eugene, who was really a sensitive soul, eating his food slowly and quietly. He broke her heart sometimes. Unlike her Patsy – who’d inherited his handsome Jamaican father’s looks – her Eugene, bless his heart, looked more African than the Nigerian bastard who had left one morning with her purse and her heart. She had really loved him for some reason, but then she had loved each of their respective fathers in her own way. She had a great capacity for love or – perhaps more to the point – sex.

But she feared that out of all her kids, Eugene would be the one to suffer the most because he wasn’t just dark, he was black as night and as handsome as the fucker who had swept her off her feet one winter’s night in the Beehive in Brixton. He had looked like an African prince, and tried to bullshit her he was one. He was studying medicine and they had enjoyed that winter together. Then he had disappeared, leaving her with her two kids, another on the way and without a penny to cross herself with. That had been what really hurt her.

She shrugged and pulled herself together; she had learned early on in her life that regrets were pointless. They just depressed you and, whatever else she might have regretted, her boys were never included. They were her life’s blood and without them she would go mad. As she ate her own food, she looked happily at the pile of ironing she had done that day and, as the smell of the apple pie she had made wafted out of the oven, she smiled in contentment. Whatever else she might want in her life, the mainstay of her existence was in this kitchen with her.

She finished her food and rolled herself a joint; she allowed herself a little puff in the evening – it mellowed her out and relaxed her. And after today she needed it.

Two hours later, the boys were bathed and in their pyjamas, and the kitchen was once more as clean and neat as a new pin.

She put the youngest two to bed and allowed Aiden and Patsy to stay up to watch TV with her for a while, snuggled up on the sofa. That was when her waters broke – and she knew that the latest addition to her family was finally on its way.

She sat up quickly and told Aiden to first get himself next door and let Mrs Obana know that she was on her time, and then run around to his nan’s and tell her the same thing. He rushed to do her bidding.

Then, telling Patsy to go up and keep an eye on his younger brothers, she hauled herself up off the sofa and went into the kitchen. She knew that Vera Obana loved her cup of tea, and she smiled as she popped the kettle on.

Vera, a tall, thin woman, with fine, blond hair, was married to a guy from Guyana and they made a lovely couple. Vera had been a midwife by trade, and she was always called in whenever Reeva was on her time. Reeva prided herself on having given birth to all her boys at home with the minimum of fuss.

While she boiled the kettle, she rolled herself another joint; she would need it once the pains really started. Reeva didn’t like hospitals − they scared her and she felt that a healthy young woman like herself shouldn’t need to go there unless it was absolutely imperative.

Up until now, giving birth had been like shelling peas so she wasn’t too perturbed about the coming labour; in fact, she welcomed it. She was dying to have this baby. She hated the last few weeks – they dragged and she always felt tired and fat. She loved babies. They were helpless and they depended on you for everything – it was the only time she ever felt wanted in her life. Each of her children had made her feel important, made her feel she had some kind of purpose. And they made her feel complete – as if she had finally got something right in the chaos that was her life.

She liked Vera and the way she kept so cool and calm. She would always chat to her in a friendly way about nothing and then, before she knew it, the child would be lying on her belly, and that would be that.

Twenty minutes later, her mum had arrived and was taking charge over the household. Reeva finally relaxed. Annie O’Hara’s voice was soothing and, as Reeva lay in her large double bed, on a pile of newspapers, she allowed herself a little smile.

‘I’ll slap the fuck out of you lot if I hear one more word!’

Yes, her mum was here, and she could hear her sons laughing at their grandmother as she scolded them. The trouble with Annie was her bark was always much worse than her bite and the boys knew that, just as Reeva had always known it.

Vera laughed gently and said quietly, ‘She’s loud, but they know she’s all talk.’

Chapter Seven

It was after one in the morning and Aiden was worried. There was an air of tension in the house that he had never experienced before, and that frightened him more than he cared to admit. Even his nan had gone quiet and that was a first in itself.

Vera had phoned for an ambulance, and that meant something was going wrong. He swallowed with difficulty.

He had popped his head around the door and seen his mum lying there white as a sheet, with her eyes closed with exhaustion. He had also seen the blood everywhere that Vera was trying so desperately to stop.

There was a situation here all right and he was getting more and more frightened by the minute. It occurred to him that if anything happened to his mother they were on their own – he knew his nan could not cope with all of them. She had trouble finding her way to Bingo; she would never manage four boisterous lads. For the first time in his life he was experiencing real terror. He didn’t like the feeling one bit. He wanted to cry, but he knew he couldn’t, otherwise it would alert his little brothers to the seriousness of the situation. He had to be strong for all of them.

When the ambulance finally arrived, he breathed a sigh of relief and, despite the protests from the adults, he insisted on going to the hospital with his mum. He was scared to leave her side, in case something happened when he wasn’t there. He sat in the ambulance with her, holding her hand and willing her to regain consciousness. She looked so white and so vulnerable lying there with that huge belly and the black rings under her eyes, he had to swallow down the tears once more.

Suddenly all hell let loose, and he was pushed out of the way roughly as the ambulance men rushed to perform CPR. He found himself praying as he watched his mother finally open her eyes and look into his. She smiled at him, and he threw himself at her, holding on to her tightly, the tears flowing now and the fear subsiding in his chest.

Ten minutes later, his little sister came into the world in all her brutal glory and he watched, fascinated, as she was cleaned up and placed in his mother’s arms. His mum was crying with happiness. That was the secret strength of women – even at his young age he knew a man, no matter how hard he might be, could not give birth and then smile like nothing had happened.

His mum motioned for him to come over to her and he sat beside her, looking in awe at the new baby she had produced amidst so much drama.

The ambulance man ruffled his hair and said kindly, ‘Little sister for you, mate. You make sure you look after her – you’re the big brother, don’t forget.’ Then he said to Reeva jovially, ‘Picked her time, all right! Thought we lost you there for a minute!’

Reeva smiled tiredly as she answered him, ‘Take a bit more than having a baby to finish me off! Tough as old boots, me.’

‘Bleeding has subsided anyway, but my guess is you will need a blood transfusion before they let you go home. You’ll need a few stitches as well. But, all in all, I think you had a result.’

Reeva looked down at her new daughter and said gently, ‘Oh, Aiden, my son, might have known it was a girl, eh? All that fucking drama!’

‘Takes after you, Mum!’

Even the ambulance men laughed at that quip.

‘Do you want to choose a name, son?’

He nodded, suddenly shy. Then, looking down at the wrinkled red face of his new sister, he said seriously, ‘She looks like Sister Agnes at school! All screwed up and miserable.’

Reeva laughed gaily and said, ‘Agnes is it then! Agnes Marianne O’Hara. That’s got a ring to it, I reckon.’

She placed his sister into his arms, laid back and closed her eyes; this was the first time she had experienced problems while giving birth and she had to admit it had scared her. She made up her mind there and then that this little lady would be her last one. She had five kids and she was still only twenty-six years old – even she knew when enough was enough. No matter what her neighbours might think about her, she wasn’t as silly as they believed.

She watched as her eldest son nursed his new sister and she felt content. Whatever happened in her life from now on, she had her kids and that was all she really cared about at the end of the day. They were the real constant in her life, and she was sensible enough to know that they were the only people who would ever really love her.

And Reeva needed love so very much.

Chapter Eight

Aiden looked down at the tiny scrap of humanity that was his sister, and he felt a surge of love so strong that it frightened him. He loved his family, especially his mum, but this new sister – his only sister – had affected him like none of the others. She was beautiful for a start, with dark silky eyelashes and piercing blue eyes. But he felt she was also like his own child in so many ways.

She would depend on him, like his mother did, and she was his blood. That was so important to him – though he couldn’t put it into words, of course. This little girl was without anyone to really take care of her properly. His mum was a flake; she did her best but God Himself knew she was liable to just give up at any given moment and follow her own star.

The arrival of little Agnes had affected him deeply, and he vowed to make sure she had the best that life could offer. He knew that as a female she would not get her due, but he would make sure she got whatever she needed, no matter what. Family was everything and, as the head of the O’Haras, Aiden was going to make it his life’s work to see them all right.

Reeva watched as her eldest son kissed his sister. She felt happy but at the same time uneasy. Aiden sometimes took his responsibilities a bit too seriously but, as her mum was always pointing out, it was a good job someone did.

Oh, her mum knew her so fucking well.

Chapter Nine

1984

‘For fuck’s sake, Mum! He is a piece of shit!’

Reeva sighed dramatically as she listened to her eldest son rant about her latest lover. He was such a fucking prude in so many ways.

‘But, Aiden, he is my piece of shit and I love him.’

And that she did. She loved him very much. She just couldn’t see herself from her son’s point of view, see how the situation looked to the outside world, and especially to her children.

‘He treats you like a cunt, Mum.’

Her son might be telling the truth, but Reeva could not give up her new man. Tony Brown was everything she had ever wanted. He was big and black and he was handsome, and he told her he loved her − something she needed to hear. He fucked her properly and that was everything to her. She was a very sensual woman who mistook sex for love − she always had. Reeva was the fuck of the century but, other than that, she meant nothing to her paramours. They knew it even if she didn’t.

Her eldest son had sussed that out many years before and he knew exactly what was on the cards for her. He had lived it all his young life.

It was three o’clock in the morning and Tony Brown was trying to kick their front door in. It was the kind of drama Reeva revelled in, determined to cause a big upset because the man she thought she loved was not giving her what she wanted. Aiden had been here with her time and time again.

They both heard the splintering of the wooden architrave as the door was finally kicked into the small hallway. Rolling his eyes in annoyance, Aiden walked out into the hallway to try and head Tony off at the pass, though he didn’t hold out much hope.

‘Do you know what she’s fucking gone and done, Ade? The fucking vicious whore!’

Aiden stood stoically in the irate man’s path to try and deflect his anger. Reeva was half-drunk and, on top of the Valium she popped like sweets, she could not see for the life of her how inappropriate this entire scene was. The only thing on her mind was that she wanted Tony but he didn’t want her any more. In Reeva’s world that meant you fought back with any ammunition you had: in this case going around to Tony’s home and spilling the beans to his wife of ten years.

Aiden stood his ground and Tony Brown, drunk and stoned as he was, realised that, whatever Reeva might have done, her kids should not be witnessing this scene. He looked at the children standing on the stairs, especially the little girl, her eyes wide like flying saucers in her head. She was visibly trembling. Feeling the anger leave him, he said to Aiden quietly, ‘I’m sorry about this, Aiden, mate. But your mother caused me untold fucking aggravation today…’

Aiden had it in his heart to try and understand the man’s reaction. When his mother was hurt, she lashed out. And when she lashed out she went for it, big time, no half measures for her.

Agnes ran to her mother and grabbed at her legs, clearly frightened by the tension in the house. Reeva picked her up and then said loudly, ‘Go on then. Fuck off back to your ugly wife and kids! You were a useless shag, anyway. My Eugene’s got a bigger one than you…’

Aiden closed his eyes in distress as he knew that a man like Tony Brown was not going to take that lying down. The whole street was aware of the altercation and was listening to what was commonly called the ‘O’Hara Cabaret’. This was not a one-off − this was how all Reeva’s relationships ended. That’s if the man in question didn’t just disappear into the night, of course. The more cowardly ones tended to do that when Reeva got too hot to handle.

‘Coming from someone who’s had more men than she can fucking count, it’s a wonder you can feel anything down there. It’s like the Blackwall Tunnel!’

Aiden sensed this was on the verge of deteriorating once more into a slanging match so he walked purposefully towards Tony Brown and nudged him over to the broken doorway.

Tony looked down at the boy and felt shame envelop him. Aiden was a good kid and he didn’t deserve the shit Reeva seemed to revel in. He held his hands out in a gesture of supplication and said sadly, ‘I’ll get the door sorted in the morning, OK?’

Aiden smiled ruefully. ‘Appreciate it, Tony. Now, you get yourself off. This lot have got school tomorrow.’

Tony made his walk of shame past the neighbours, who were all trying to get a glimpse of the action, and cursed himself for his escapade. But that woman could make a saint swear! Now he had to go home and face his wife – and try and repair the damage as best he could.

Reeva watched him go, holding her daughter tightly to her and crying into the girl’s thick hair. The action made Agnes start to whimper. After attempting to put the front door back as best he could, Aiden took his sister and, giving her to Patsy, he walked his mum into the kitchen. Then, settling her on a chair, he lit her a cigarette and poured her out a large vodka and Coke.

Reeva watched her son as he ministered to her and she felt the tears come faster. This was the only man she had ever been able to depend on − her Aiden. Her boys were all so good to her. Patsy, bless him, had put the others back to bed and now there was a semblance of normality in the household once more.

Lighting himself a cigarette, Aiden put the kettle on to make tea. ‘This has got to stop, you know, Mum. You frightened Agnes tonight and, as big a bastard as Tony Brown is, you shouldn’t have grassed him up to his old woman.’

Reeva wiped her eyes with the back of her hands and said sadly, ‘Why does this always happen to me, Ade?’

He was pouring out the tea as she spoke and he felt a constriction around his heart at the utter despair in her voice. She knew the answer to that question as well as he did, but he answered her anyway. Bringing the teas to the table he sat down beside her and, grabbing her hand in his, he said truthfully, ‘You always go for the wrong ones, Mum. You meet them and they move in within days. Then the fighting starts. You should have a rest from blokes for a while and wait for one who is right for you.’

Reeva smiled through her tears at her earnest son who was genuinely trying to give her advice. There were only fourteen years between the two of them, and that was never more evident than when they sat chatting like this. He was always trying to pick up the pieces of her life.

‘I tell you something, Mum. When I get married it will be to the right person, I know that much.’

Reeva smiled to herself. Even at fifteen he sounded so wise. Much wiser than her.

Hearing Agnes begin to cry her head off, Aiden picked up his tea, kissed his mum on the cheek and hugged her for a few seconds. ‘I’ll bring her in with me and Patsy tonight, tell her a story.’ As he walked into the hallway he said over his shoulder, ‘And don’t you go out anywhere, OK? Get yourself off to bed and forget about that bastard.’

Reeva didn’t bother to answer him.

Chapter Ten

Frank James liked Aiden O’Hara. In fact, he liked all the O’Hara children, even though they were the bane of his life. He even liked the mother, Reeva, although he despaired at her lifestyle. But Aiden was a clever lad and he deserved the opportunity to go on to better things in life.

As he approached the O’Hara household, Frank was not even remotely surprised to see a workman reattaching the front door and repairing the architrave around it. It wasn’t the first time. He walked into the house, calling out Reeva’s name, and he heard a scrambling in the bedroom – and whispering. In the kitchen, young Agnes was in a lobster-pot playpen watching him with huge solemn eyes. She was another beautiful child; Reeva did have exceptionally handsome children, he’d give her that.

Reeva came down the stairs in a short dressing gown that showed a lot of her long, slender legs, the ever-present cigarette in her hand.

‘Oh, Mr James! I wasn’t expecting you.’

She was smiling happily at him as she put the kettle on. Frank was quite happy to enjoy the view. She was a very good-looking woman and he appreciated beauty. He noticed that, other than the destroyed doorway, the rest of the house was, as usual, spotlessly clean.

‘I just thought I would pop around about Aiden.’ He sat down at the kitchen table before saying calmly, ‘As we’ve discussed before, he’s a very intelligent boy and I really think he could do well in higher education. University is certainly on the cards if he applies himself.’

Reeva puffed up with pride at the man’s words and she smiled at him in a friendly manner.

‘He is clever all right, Mr James. Must have inherited the brains from his old man because I’m as thick as shit, as you know.’

Frank closed his eyes. The one thing he would never get used to was the casual use of bad language by the children and the parents.

‘But you know my boy – all my boys, in fact. They will go their own roads. I mean, I encourage them. But that’s all I can do really.’

He took the proffered mug of tea and thanked her, unable to keep his eyes from her breasts that were still surprisingly firm considering she had given birth to five children. His own wife’s had mysteriously disappeared after their one and only daughter – not that there had been much there to start with.

Reeva sat down and crossed her legs in a very dignified manner and Frank felt hot under the collar. She really was a disconcerting woman. She smelled faintly of sex. Sex and freedom − that was the only way he could describe it. She was a sensual being, it was in her DNA. It was who Reeva was. He had noticed that even when she had been at school, and he smiled wryly as he remembered how much trouble she seemed to attract.

‘I was wondering, Reeva, if I might talk to him alone and go through some options with him? I would hate for him to fall through the cracks.’ He sighed. ‘Aiden’s fifteen now and he is already becoming hard to handle. He needs to be taken in hand soon. Otherwise it will be too late.’

Reeva could see that the man was deadly earnest and that he had her son’s welfare at heart. But she was nothing if not a realist. If her Aiden didn’t want to work then no one or nothing would make him.

‘Oi, Reeva! The door’s finished.’

Reeva stood up and left the kitchen. Frank heard a door open and saw a man clump down the stairs wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, and pay the workman cash in hand. He felt especially embarrassed when Tony Brown walked into the kitchen as if he owned the place and poured himself a cup of tea.

Reeva lit another cigarette as she came back in and made the introductions, finishing with, ‘Mr James thinks that Aiden could go far. University, even.’

Tony leaned against the sink and sipped his tea before saying, ‘Don’t surprise me a bit, Reeva. He’s a good lad, bright as a button. Good with numbers, I know that.’

Frank was surprised to find an ally and he leaped on it, saying seriously, ‘All Aiden needs is a stable influence, Reeva. He really has the makings of a fine scholar. And his reading is exceptional. He’s flown through Hermann Hesse!’

Reeva smiled with pride. ‘Well, he is doing the Second World War. In history, like. But wasn’t he a war criminal?’

Frank ignored her and ploughed on. ‘I’ve spoken to your social worker and she agrees with me that Aiden needs some extra help. Now, there is a chance − only a chance, I admit − that he can go away to a private school that caters for children like him. Who would offer him a balanced environment and the chance to study without…’ He looked around him and was suddenly lost for words. He also felt a sudden hostility surround him like electricity. Reeva wasn’t smiling any more; she was staring at him with open hatred.

‘What? You mean leave me? Leave this house?’

Frank tried to sound jovial as he said, ‘Only during term time, Reeva. It’s a wonderful opportunity for him, really.’

Reeva lit yet another cigarette and, blowing the smoke into Frank’s face, she said harshly, ‘Out.’

Frank was nonplussed for a few seconds. That one word had sounded like a declaration of war, which it was to Reeva. The thought of her Aiden being taken away from her was anathema and she said as much. ‘You can tell that fucking social worker I will put her through the fucking wall before they take my boy off me. I swear that. Now, come on. Out.’

Tony Brown held up his hand and said sternly, ‘Hang on a minute, Reeva. I think this would be a good thing for Aiden. And, like Frank said, he will be home for the holidays. It’s a good opportunity, especially if it ain’t costing you a fucking penny.’

Reeva turned on him. ‘Tony, this is fuck-all to do with you, OK? My Aiden ain’t going fucking nowhere. No. Fucking. Where. And that is the end of it. Now, if you don’t mind, Mr James, I want to get back to bed with my boyfriend before either his wife turns up or the boys get back from school. So, goodbye and no thanks.’

Tony shook his head at Frank sadly, as if to say ‘I tried’.

Reeva saw the man out and slammed the door resoundingly behind him. Agnes had watched it all without a murmur. She just stared at them with her big eyes that looked like those of an ancient.

‘You’re out of order, Reeva. This is a wonderful opportunity for that lad – and he is clever. You should have bitten the man’s hand off.’

Reeva shook her head and held back the tears. She knew that Tony was right, but she couldn’t cope without Aiden. He paid the bills and sorted the money, he helped her get from one day to the next. He was the brains of the family outfit and without him she would sink without a trace. But how could she explain that to Mr James? How could she justify refusing her son’s education because without him, as young as he was, she couldn’t even get through a day?

‘He is going nowhere, Tony. I couldn’t be without any of my kids.’

Tony walked over to her and held her tightly. He had come back last night with his tail between his legs because his wife would not give him houseroom. He knew Reeva would have him. ‘You’re a good mum, Reeva. But that geezer was offering Aiden a chance to get out of all this.’ He gestured around him.

Reeva knew he was absolutely right. But she could not let her boy go.

Chapter Eleven

Aiden looked at his headmaster calmly. He knew only too well what Mr James had witnessed at his home the day before and he was past being embarrassed about it. But, as he listened to Mr James talking of the wonderful opportunity he was being presented with, he almost allowed himself the luxury of getting excited about it. But he knew that he couldn’t. The social worker, Marjory Smith, was a nice woman. True, she was scatty as a bag of bollocks, as his mother described it, but her heart was in the right place. He would have loved this chance, but he couldn’t take it. Reeva would not last five minutes without him. She blundered from one disaster to the next − it was what she did. She didn’t mean to, but in many ways it was as if she was still the kid.

So he shook his head vehemently. ‘Why would I want to go somewhere like that? Away from my mum and my brothers and sister?’

Marjory Smith looked at the handsome boy with the high IQ and a mother who, though she loved her children, had no moral compass whatsoever, and she could have cried for the waste of a young life. She guessed that Aiden was frightened to leave his mother to her own devices. Marjory admired him for that but it grieved her to see him give up such an opportunity because his mother couldn’t control her sexual urges. Because that is all it amounted to at the end of the day: Reeva O’Hara and her next sexual conquest. They were frequent, they were passionate and they always ended in tears.

‘Look, just think it over, Aiden, OK? Here’s everything you need to know. Just look it over this weekend and if you change your mind you can call me. But we need to know soon − these places are very few and far between.’

Aiden took the proffered folder and left Mr James and Marjory together, knowing they were despairing of him and his refusal. But what choice did he have? He placed the folder in the nearest bin and went to round up his brothers. Tony Brown looked like he might be on the scene for a while and he wanted to warn them. Fucking Reeva, sometimes she did get on his tits.

Chapter Twelve

Tony had asked Aiden to pop out with him, saying there was a couple of quid in it for him. Aiden agreed to go willingly − he was always up for getting an extra bit of cash. He knew that with Tony it wasn’t going to be legal work but that didn’t bother him either. He was fifteen and he knew his way around a fucking corner.

As they drove into Essex, Aiden looked out at the passing countryside, enjoying seeing the nice houses and the large gardens. ‘I’ll have a drum like these one day, Tony.’

Tony laughed. ‘I reckon you will, Ade. I assume you know about the school they wanted to send you to?’

Aiden shrugged as if it meant nothing. ‘I told them it was bollocks. I couldn’t leave Reeva. She needs me.’

Tony Brown felt a terrible urge to stop the car and hug the deeply decent lad sitting next to him. But, of course, he didn’t.

‘It would have been a good opportunity though. I told your mum to run with it. But she said no.’

Aiden was grateful that Tony had tried on his behalf. It said a lot about the man. Sighing heavily, he said seriously, ‘She ain’t bad with money, but only if I explain it all to her first, you know? I work out what she needs to pay and what we need for the kids. She’s a blinding cook and we eat well. No processed shit in our house. She looks after us like that. But you and I know, Tony, that she is not a woman who should ever be left to her own devices. Without me, the drink and drugs would spiral out of control and she would eventually lose the other kids. But, saying that, I love her and she loves us. We look out for her and for each other.’

Tony Brown had never liked Aiden more. He had been forced to grow up at a young age and he didn’t resent Reeva for that, he loved her for keeping them together. Tony hoped to God that Reeva knew how lucky she was – his kids were like fucking leeches in comparison.

‘Do me a favour, Tony, will you? Don’t break her heart too much. Every bloke that leaves destroys her a little bit more. She ain’t a bad person. She’s just a girl who needs a lot of love, that’s all.’

Tony grinned and said sadly, ‘I’ll try, mate, but you know what she can be like.’

Aiden laughed. ‘You’re preaching to the converted, Tony!’

As they pulled into a farmhouse, Aiden looked in awe at the beautiful property that was reached through electronic gates. From the mullion windows to the pristine blue of the pool the house said ‘class’.

Tony stopped outside the front door and shut the engine off. ‘This is the home of Eric Palmer. He is the biggest drug dealer in the South East and he’s looking for a few lads to distribute around London using the train services. There’s a good few quid in this if you do it right, and I have a feeling that you’ll be shrewd enough to play this opportunity for all its worth. Now, you sure you are up for it?’

Aiden O’Hara smiled gamely. ‘Is the Pope a Catholic?’

They laughed together and went into the beautiful house.

Chapter Thirteen

Eric Palmer was a small man with a big voice. He was self-made and a legend in East and South London with the reputation for being a good businessman – fair but hard – and outrageously ruthless. You only ever fucked up once and that was it.

He looked Aiden over and smiled disarmingly, displaying very expensive teeth as he said jovially, ‘You’re a big lad for fifteen. How’s Reeva these days?’

Aiden shook hands with him and said with careful nonchalance, ‘She’s my mother and she is doing well, thank you.’

The warning was clear and, instead of being insulted at the boy’s words, Eric Palmer immediately took a shine to the kid. He had heart and loyalty. Loyalty to his mother showed fucking true grit as far as Eric was concerned. Most men would have disowned that whore sooner rather than later.

‘Good on you, son. Remember, wives come and go but you only get one mum.’

Aiden smiled that handsome smile he had and Eric Palmer decided that he liked him. He had something about him − something he could use to his advantage. He offered Aiden a cold bottle of beer and then he took them out to the patio around his swimming pool. As they sat down, Eric could see the boy looking around him in wonderment. He also saw the glint in his eye; this kid could be a grafter. A serious grafter. According to Tony, who wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, Aiden was a mathematical genius. And the younger you got them, the better, as far as Eric was concerned. You could mould them into what you needed for different jobs and, if they had the nous, they then went on to bigger and better things. If they couldn’t hack it, they were taken out of the game in the early stages of play. That was the way of the world they inhabited.

‘So, Aiden, I need a lad to recruit for me a series of other lads who are too young to be nicked for serious crimes. I need product moved all over the Smoke and by public transport. The Filth never really take kids into the equation. I need you to be as silent as a fucking mute and, if by some extraordinary chance you do get a capture, you keep your trap shut no matter what the Filth might threaten you with. Because what they threaten you with will be nothing compared with what I will fucking do to you, OK?’

Aiden shrugged and said intently, ‘I’ll keep my mouth shut, Mr Palmer, as long as you make sure my mum gets a decent wedge every week.’

Eric looked at Tony and the two men began to laugh their heads off. ‘Oh, Tony, I think this kid will do.’

Aiden took a pull on his beer and then joined in the laughter. He was going to university all right, the University of Life. He wondered where this would take him and he hoped it would be somewhere he wanted to be.

In the car on the way back into London, Tony said seriously, ‘You did well there, kid. You could really bring in a good wedge, you know.’

Aiden nodded and said quietly, ‘Don’t worry, I intend to.’

Chapter Fourteen

1988

‘For fuck’s sake, Mum, why do you get this drunk?’

Aiden was annoyed. He had a lot going on tonight and the last thing he needed was to have to sort her out and any problems that she might have incurred during a whole day on the piss. At least Reeva was maudlin − that always was a good sign. It meant that she was on the verge of sleeping it off.

Patsy O’Hara rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Personally, he had had her up to the back teeth seeing as how he was the one who’d had to remove her from the working men’s club. ‘Honestly, Ade, you should have heard her! Fucking right embarrassing it was.’

Aiden felt for his brother but he still couldn’t allow him to be disrespectful to their mother. ‘Well, she’s had a lot on lately and you know she can’t cope with aggravation.’

Patsy sighed in annoyance. ‘Pity she has to keep causing it then, ain’t it?’

Aiden didn’t bother to answer him. They had all felt it at some point − it was what Reeva did to people. They loved and loathed her at the same time. But Aiden, being the eldest, felt he had a duty to take care not only of his mother but his entire family, especially his little sister.

Reeva was trying catch the drift of the conversation but it was beyond her. She had been drinking since 10 a.m. and everything and everyone had fled from her mind. She knew she was in the wrong, but she wasn’t exactly sure why. As she fell sideways on the sofa, and started to snore softly, little Agnes lay beside her and attempted to cuddle her.

‘What did the Old Bill say?’ Aiden asked as he put a blanket over them.

Patsy snorted in derision. ‘What they always say, Ade. “Just take her home.” You know she clumped Big Pete’s wife, don’t you? Nicest woman you could ever meet.’

Aiden sighed again. ‘I will sort out Big Pete and his fucking fat wife. Luckily he has a soft spot for Mum.’

Patsy laughed and said snidely, ‘Yeah. And the trouble is, she has a soft spot for everyone else, does our mum.’

The blow knocked Patsy off his chair and on to the floor. He looked up into Aiden’s angry countenance and shook his head in disbelief.

‘Why do you always stick up for her?’

Aiden looked fit to be tied and Patsy felt a glimmer of fear. ‘She is our mother and, no matter what anyone else thinks, she is the only parent in our lives. Yes, she goes off the rails occasionally but she is the only constant we are ever going to have, and the fact that she is our mother demands − fucking demands − our loyalty no matter what. I can’t believe you sometimes! For all her faults she would die for each and every one of us. She is a victim. Don’t you ever forget that.’

Aiden looked at his two youngest brothers and said gently, ‘Eugene, you take Agnes and try and amuse her. And you, Porrick, get Mum’s quilt and cover her up properly. I don’t think she could quite manage the stairs tonight.’

Both boys rushed to do his bidding as they always did. Aiden was the king of the household and they knew he was the provider in more ways than one.

Aiden took a twenty-pound note out of his wallet and said to Patsy quietly, ‘I have a bit of business tonight. Get this lot fish and chips and keep your eye on them, OK? I don’t know when I will be back.’

Patsy took the money and nodded at his brother. As he went to walk from the room, Aiden pulled him back and hugged him tightly.

‘I know how you feel, believe me, Patsy. But, seriously, she really can’t help it. You know her. She’ll be Mother of the Year tomorrow.’

Patsy shrugged and said honestly, ‘She forgot about Agnes again. We’ll end up with social services all over us like a rash if she don’t sort herself out.’

Aiden hugged him again, crooning gently, ‘I know, mate. I know. I will sort it, don’t worry.’

Patsy shrugged his brother off saying, ‘I hope so, mate, because she’s getting out of hand.’

Aiden watched his brother walk out of the room and he felt the urge to cry. He had a lot on and the last thing he needed was Reeva playing up.

Chapter Fifteen

Eric Palmer was a happy man. He had just got off with the biggest capture this side of the Thames, and that was because of one person. As Aiden walked into Eric’s offices in Green Lanes a cheer went up and Aiden, rosy red with embarrassment, laughed and accepted a glass of champagne.

‘You fucking Brahma, boy. How did you do it?’

Aiden shrugged. ‘Let’s just say I have a persuasiveness about me.’

Eric admired the lad. He should have known Aiden would not tell anyone anything with a room full of witnesses. That was the fucking beauty of this kid. He wouldn’t have a shit lest he thought it out and planned it down to the last detail. He was a natural-born villain.

‘Come through, son, and we’ll have a chat.’

Aiden followed the man happily. He liked Eric Palmer and he admired him. But, more than anything, he wanted to be him.

In the back office Eric poured them both a large brandy and, giving it to the boy, he said seriously, ‘This is thirty years old and far better than that champagne shite. Now, tell me how you did it.’

Aiden sipped the brandy and coughed as the strength of it hit the back of his throat. He liked the burn as it slipped down into his gut. He held the glass up in a toast and said genuinely, ‘I could get used to this, Mr Palmer.’

Eric loved the way Aiden was so respectful – he still gave him his title which spoke volumes as far as he was concerned. He was a tall, handsome lad and looked a lot older than his nineteen years.

Aiden sat in the chair opposite Eric’s and said in the usual quiet voice he used when discussing business, ‘Young Jimmy Croft’s dad got a big capture and he’s in for a lump, no getting away from it. So I told him to tell his dad that if he held his hands up there would be a oner a week for the family in it, and a guaranteed job when he came out. I also said his debts would be paid off. It’s ten grand but it’s cheap at that price, really. We both know Johnny Brooke would hassle him, even in the clink, would fuck up the family to get his money. Treacherous cunt, Johnny is. I mean, who goes after someone’s wife and kids? Wanker. So, that’s the score.’

Eric was over the moon. Aiden had got them out of deep shit for a lousy ten grand. It was fucking amazing.

‘All the statements have been done. I told the lad the main shit and he passed it on. I didn’t say anything until I thought it was all in hand, like. Plus some of that lot -’ he pointed with his thumb to the closed door -‘might have felt the urge to add their five bob’s worth and that would have defeated the object. This needed silence and solitude, if you get my drift. Now he’s going down happily, knowing his debts are paid and his family has a decent drink. I also guaranteed him an easy time in the clink. His own cell, et cetera. It was the least we could do, really, considering.’

Eric Palmer felt the urge to kiss Aiden. He had singlehandedly sorted out a serious bit of large, and he had done it quietly and without fanfare. This kid was a natural problem-solver who saw what needed to be done and then went for it without the fuss of muscle, threats or fucking violence − unless absolutely necessary, that is.

‘He will get that and more, my son. He has taken me out of a big fucking hole. And as for Dennis Harper…’

Aiden held up a hand and said seriously, ‘That’s the other thing. Dennis unfortunately died yesterday – heroin overdose in the Scrubbs. Drugs, eh? Such a problem in the prison system these days.’ He sipped at his brandy before saying, ‘That cost me five hundred bar. A mate owed me a favour.’

Eric Palmer was, for the first time in his life, speechless. Dennis Harper was a huge bugbear and Eric had not been able to get near him. That this kid had managed it put him in a whole other league.

Aiden basked in Eric’s abject admiration, which was just what he had expected and planned for. He was going places, and he was determined to do it on his own terms.

Eric Palmer jumped out of his seat and shook his hand roughly. Aiden could see the man’s gratitude in his eyes, in his stance, in everything about him.

‘You, my son, are a fucking diamond! I can’t believe you managed it.’

Aiden, who always played things down until he was sure of it working out, said quietly, ‘Well, let’s wait and see. I never count my chickens!’

‘Oh, it’s worked, my son. My brief was on earlier – we just couldn’t work out why I was out of the frame.’

Aiden shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Glad to be of help.’

Eric was thrilled and he said generously, ‘You are going places, and you are going those places with me.’

Aiden smiled that handsome smile of his that looked to all the world like he was as trustworthy as the Holy Father himself. And Eric Palmer fell for it hook, line and sinker.

‘Come on, let’s get back to the party. You, my son, deserve to have the night of your life tonight.’

Aiden O’Hara didn’t expect anything less. He had pulled off the seemingly impossible and, in many ways, it had been a lucky fluke. He had met the right people in the right places at the right time. But he wasn’t about to say that to anyone, least of all Eric Palmer.

Chapter Sixteen

Aiden came home at 2 a.m. to hear Tony Brown and his mother fighting. He was drunk and not in the mood for any more of their histrionics. He felt sorry for Tony in some ways because he knew that, despite his mother’s best antics, Tony did genuinely care about her these days. He’d stuck around anyway. But she was hard work for all concerned.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ The voice was loud and aggressive. As Aiden walked into the front room he saw his mother, awake now and up for a row, and Tony bending over her. But it was seeing Tony’s fear as he walked in that really affected Aiden. It told him just how much his reputation had been enhanced this night. It also saddened him, because Tony had been the nearest thing to a real father Aiden had ever known. He had also introduced him to Eric Palmer and he had put up with Reeva longer than anyone else had – indeed had apparently left his wife for her. That in itself was a miraculous fucking achievement.

‘Look, Aiden, I wasn’t going to clump her or anything…’

Aiden looked at the man in horror. ‘’Course you weren’t! Fucking hell, Tony. It’s me, Aiden. I know what a mare this one can be.’ He smiled at his mum. ‘Sober again, are we? Up for another row?’

Reeva was wrong-footed now. The fight left her as quickly as it had arrived. ‘You all right, Aiden, my son?’

Tony breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Aiden had that effect on people, and especially on Reeva. They adored each other. Strangely that didn’t bother Tony because he knew that, without her eldest boy, Reeva would have gone off the rails years ago.

‘I’m all right, Mum, unlike you, of course. You do realise that you forgot about Agnes again today, don’t you? While you were pissed and clumping Big Pete’s wife, your daughter was left to her own devices.’ Aiden smiled at Tony as he said in a friendly manner, ‘Put the kettle on, Tone, would you? I need to talk to Mother of the fucking Year here. Put her wise to a few of her failings.’

Tony was only too pleased to oblige. He could hear them talking from the kitchen anyway so he left the room quietly, pleased to see the contrite look on Reeva’s lovely, if infuriating, face. She really was the most aggravating female he had ever come across. Yet, like Aiden, he almost understood her. Aiden had explained to him once that his mum was so sure whoever she loved would leave her that she instinctively drove them away. It was something to do with her father walking out on her and her mother when she was a little girl, apparently. It was all a bit deep for him, if he was honest. But even the school had admitted that Aiden was a bit of a boffin so he assumed the boy knew what he was banging on about. He made the tea.

Reeva was contrite as always when she sobered up and she listened to her son with a suitably tragic face. That trick had not worked since he was nine but now was not the time to point that out to her!

‘Look, Mum, you forgot Aggie again today and that really ain’t good, is it? Not only could she be hurt or kidnapped, but it could bring social services breathing down our necks again. And that is the last thing we need now.’

He was talking to her in a quiet, reasonable voice and she appreciated that. Her head was hammering and her mouth was drier than a buzzard’s crutch. She knew she was in the wrong big time and now all she wanted was a fag, a cup of tea and her bed – in that order.

‘Where is Agnes?’

Aiden stifled a smile. ‘She is in bed, like the others. But I mean it, Mum. Our Patsy has got the right hump with you and he has every right.’

Reeva closed her eyes and nodded. Then she lit herself a cigarette and was grateful when Tony brought in the teas. Tony winked at her and she felt the urge to cry. He had lasted a lot longer than any of the others and, even though she had a sneaky feeling that was because of her Aiden and his business acumen, she did believe that there was a part of Tony Brown that genuinely cared for her. Though, like everyone else, she couldn’t think what that could be. The tea revived her and she sat up straighter. The thing with Reeva was, even after all the kids, all the drink and all the drugs, she was still a beautiful woman.

‘I promise you, Aiden. I will be good in future. But I had a shit day. That old bag in the Co-op was on my case again this morning. I weren’t in the mood for it. I mean, what the fuck have I ever done to her? She is like the wronged wife every time I go in there. Sniffing and looking down at me.’ Aiden laughed and said, ‘You had taken five Dexedrine, Mum. I slapped Billy Marshall today and told him if he ever sold you anything but puff in future I would kill him. So save the stories for Agnes at bedtime, eh?’

Despite her annoyance, Reeva laughed with him. She knew when she was caught out. And Tony marvelled at this family who could fight one minute and laugh the next.

Chapter Seventeen

Agnes was sitting on Aiden’s lap and he was holding her tightly to him. Eric Palmer was impressed to see the lad take care of his family like a father. As Aiden picked up a cream cake and gave it to his sister, Eric felt the urge to cry, and wondered if he was going soft in his old age. His own kids were spoiled brats who were only interested in themselves. This boy was single-handedly keeping his family together and, with Reeva as a mother, that had to be a full-time job.

‘I like cake, Ade.’

Aiden laughed at Agnes and said gently, ‘Everyone likes cake, darling. God invented cake so you could celebrate things like birthdays, and to comfort you at other times when you are sad. Nothing like a cake to cheer you up, eh?’

She laughed delightedly with him. Eric noticed she was a beautiful child; she looked like she had a bit of Arab or Turk in her, with huge blue eyes and jet-black hair. Aiden would be chasing the men off with a shotgun if she got her mother’s build.

Eric remembered the young Reeva. God, she could bring a grown man to his knees with a smile. Trouble was, she was liable to be the one on her knees. She was a girl all right. He had had her himself − before she had so many kids, of course.

Now he was sitting in a café on the Roman Road having a business meeting and this lad had brought his youngest sister because, as he had explained, his mother was indisposed. Eric assumed she had the hangover from hell.

‘The thing is, Aiden, I think it’s time I introduced you around to my other business partners. They all know about you, and I think you would do well to get a handle on the different businesses I have.’

This was music to Aiden’s ears. It meant Eric was grooming him to take over eventually, providing he proved himself fitting. Which he would − this was what he had been aiming for. This was what it was all about. He smiled, and there was genuine pleasure in it. Eric Palmer liked to be appreciated. It showed a man’s mettle if he was big enough to acknowledge when someone was doing them a great kindness.

A man walked into the café and Aiden immediately stiffened. When the man approached the table he instinctively tightened his hold on Agnes, who was immediately aware of the change in atmosphere. Her huge eyes were troubled now and she snuggled into her brother. The man was big and sweaty-looking, with a bald head and dead eyes.

Eric Palmer smiled and said casually, ‘Aiden O’Hara, let me introduce Detective Chief Superintendent Smith. Bent Filth and all-round prize cunt. But he’s my prize cunt so he’s harmless. Smith, this is my protégé, Aiden.’

Aiden was amazed at the way the Old Bill didn’t react to the insults. He just stuck out his hand and Aiden shook it, bewildered now. Then Eric and Smith both laughed together, like the old friends they were.

‘You bastard, Palmer!’

Then Smith looked at Agnes and said seriously, ‘What a beautiful child. Mind you, son, your mum’s a good looker, no doubt about that, eh?’

Aiden felt that he had walked into a nightmare. This man was hated, and not just by criminals. Yet here he was, in broad daylight, having a cup of tea with them and acting like he was welcome. Which, from Eric Palmer’s point of view, he was.

‘You are now under Smith’s protection, son. So, play nicely!’

The two older men laughed again and Smith said seriously, ‘Remember, son − things are often not what you first think. Most of life is smoke and mirrors. Now, I’m going to have a cup of tea and get myself off to the station. Got murders going on at the moment and I mean that literally. Two men shot in Mile End last night. Fucking Jamaicans, always bring their feuds into the street. Much easier all round if the bodies just disappear. But what can you do? They like to make examples. Logic there, I suppose.’

Aiden listened to the two men talking and realised that for all his so-called intelligence he had a fucking lot to learn. He guessed this was what this meeting was about. Eric was bringing him into a world that needed to be negotiated very carefully if you wanted to survive in it. And Eric Palmer had survived a lot longer than his contemporaries. Not only was he still alive, but he wasn’t banged up for thirty years either.

Agnes had now taken quite a liking to the big, bald man and Aiden was amazed when Smith took her on his lap, happily chatting away to her as if this was a normal event. Just a normal day.

Chapter Eighteen

Reeva walked into the Co-op to get her cigarettes. She was still fragile after the events of the day before and she had to be on her best behaviour − Aiden had made that plain this morning at breakfast. She would pick up her fags and then she would go to the butcher’s to get something lovely in for dinner. And she’d make some cakes. She was once more on the maternal wavelength, happy to be looking after her family. Agnes had gone with Aiden for a few hours so Reeva had time to sort herself out. The house already looked spotless, and she had even washed her nets.

Now, as she waited to be served, she saw Big Pete’s wife, Carol, looking at her in the window and, with her usual front, Reeva smiled and waved at her as if nothing untoward had happened between them. Carol smiled back and walked into the shop. She was an imposing woman with a beautiful face and an easy-going personality. The latter was a requisite if you were married to a man like her husband.

‘All right, Reeva.’

This was a form of address, not a question, and Reeva smiled engagingly as she answered her. ‘Yeah, mate. I’m good. About yesterday…’

Carol flapped her hand in dismissal. ‘We have all done it, love! Too much to drink too early in the day.’

They laughed liked drains, and the incident was over and done with. Then they started the serious gossiping and stood together for a good ten minutes, either slaughtering mutual friends or sympathising with them, depending. Reeva was in her element.

Jack watched the women, relieved, and ignored his wife, Doris, as she scowled at them with disapproval.

Suddenly the door was smashed open and two young men in balaclavas came inside brandishing a shotgun and a small handgun.

Jack couldn’t believe his eyes. He knew that robbery was on the increase but he never dreamed that he would be on the receiving end of it. He heard Doris cry out in fear and moved towards her to protect her. That was when one of the firearms went off. It shot by his shoulder, grazing the skin, and he didn’t know who was the more surprised − himself, or the lad who had inadvertently fired his gun.

Reeva stepped forward quickly, shouting angrily, ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you dozy pair of fucking twits? Fucking out on the rob in this weather?’

The boy with the shotgun was terrified, Reeva could see it in his eyes. The other lad was shaking after the gunshot had frightened him with its noise.

Then she heard one of them say sharply, ‘Oh, fuck! It’s Aiden’s fucking mother!’

The two lads ran from the shop into the harsh sunshine and Reeva and the other occupants were left staring at each other in shock.

Then Jack Walters seemed to realise he had been shot at and he collapsed on to the floor. There was pandemonium.

Chapter Nineteen

Aiden O’Hara was like the Antichrist. That someone had robbed his local shop while his mother was on the premises was basically unbelievable. He could not comprehend such outrageousness, such stupidity. It did not take him long to find out the names of the culprits and apprehend them. After giving them a serious hammering, he made clear to all and sundry that anyone even thinking of robbing on his manor would be dealt with harshly. This was backed up by Eric Palmer and so was now like the eleventh commandment, written in stone and never to be forgotten.

Doris Walters, despite herself, had to show her gratitude and, in a strange way, she was grateful because it could all have been so much worse. Reeva was suddenly made aware of just how much of a reputation her boy was garnering for himself. It was a real eye-opener. That Doris Walters now served her with something approaching politeness spoke volumes in itself! And Reeva was not about to let something like this pass her by without making the most of it. No, Reeva O’Hara was the new Violet Kray as far as she was concerned. And she was determined to milk it for all it was worth.

Chapter Twenty

The deeper Aiden went into Eric’s world, the more it amazed him. He had suspected that Eric Palmer was into all sorts − he had just not realised how far the man’s arm could reach. No wonder Eric was always watching his back – he walked a fine line every day of his life because a lot of the stuff he was involved in was not to everyone’s taste.

Today Aiden was in a private house in Kensington, where very young girls and boys were used by much older men. He concealed his shock easily – looking like he wasn’t bothered was his natural demeanour. But inside he was disgusted. These were little more than kids for all their make-up and sexy clothes. Even in the big, bad world of Faces there were many who would view this kind of set up with scandal and abhorrence. Prostitution was always there but the management of kids was frowned on by more than a few hard men.

The man he was accompanying was called Rufus Martin and he was a big Rastafarian with gold teeth and a serious paunch. He smoked dope continuously and smelled like an ashtray.

‘Bit young, ain’t they?’

Rufus shrugged, saying quietly, ‘This is where the money is, boy. This is what the men who come here want.’

Aiden kept his own counsel. There was no way he would ever be heard saying anything even remotely detrimental about anything Eric controlled. He already knew how to play the game and his natural reticence was working for him. That didn’t mean he had to like it, but he reasoned that everyone had to do things they didn’t particularly like or agree with. That was part and parcel of life, no matter who you were.

He followed Rufus through to the so-called offices. In this case they were in the basement of the house and were surprisingly smart, considering. Behind a large mahogany desk sat a blonde with pale green eyes and an alluring smile. Aiden felt her looking him over as if he was on sale and he returned the look as best he could. But he was bowled over. The woman was stunning, and it seemed she knew it as well as he did.

‘And you are?’

Her voice was well modulated but there was still a cockney twang there and that helped with Aiden’s unaccustomed nervousness.

Rufus laughed loudly. ‘Put the boy down with those green eyes of yours. This is young Aiden, Eric’s protégé!’

The woman sat back in the chair and appraised Aiden once more and he felt the heat of her gaze wash over him. Only this time she wasn’t taking the piss.

She waved a well-manicured hand at Rufus and said dismissively, ‘Bye, Rufus.’ The big man left without a murmur.

‘Sit yourself down and let’s get acquainted, shall we?’

Aiden did as he was told. Never in his life before had he felt like this. He was aware that this woman liked the effect she was having on him. He had a feeling she had the same effect on most of the male population.

She stood up and held her hand out elegantly for him to shake it, saying seductively, ‘I’m Jade Dixon and this is my house.’

Chapter Twenty-One

Reeva and the other kids were watching Knight Rider repeats when Aiden finally arrived home. Reeva jumped up immediately and put the kettle on. She was once more on the up and up and, as a consequence, everything she did was with vigour and a smile.

Aiden could tell she had had a few drinks but nothing catastrophic, so he was happy enough. Agnes ran to him and he picked her up and kissed her, asking the boys what they had been up to and what had constituted their various days. He was, for all intents and purposes, the man of the house.

Tony came into the room and smiled widely on seeing Aiden. The two men shook hands. ‘How’s madam been?’

Tony and Aiden laughed as she shouted from the kitchen, ‘Oi, I fucking heard that!’

The kids were happy, Reeva was happy and Aiden was over the fucking moon. He had somehow fallen in love in the space of a few hours, and that was not something he would ever have envisioned. Especially not with a woman who peddled other women and children for a living and was a fair bit older than him. But he felt so good he was willing to run with it.

Reeva brought in the teas and they all started to chat. This was what Aiden loved; this family life when everyone was acting normally and they could at least pretend for a while that it was not an illusion based around his mother’s moods and her capacity to imbibe huge quantities of drink and drugs. Mainly she let down her children, who lived in constant terror of what she would do next; she was a fucking flake at times. She disappointed Aiden because he felt she should always put them first. But the drink and the drugs were her escape. She would get out of bed, all sweetness and light, and then she would go on a bender, and those benders were legendary. Why she did it was a mystery but, as Aiden reasoned, their whole faith was based on one mystery after another − one more wouldn’t do any harm. Reeva’s life was a constant stream of chaotic events followed by weeks, occasionally even months, of absolute perfection where she cooked, cleaned and gave her kids the attention they needed. And, in fairness, even when she was on a bender they never disputed that she loved them dearly.

Aiden understood she was still young and that she felt the need to get out and away from her responsibilities. She craved drama and the knowledge that she was still attractive. When things got rocky with Tony and he took off for a bit, she got lonely and, when the loneliness got too much, she sought out company and excitement to recapture her youth. With that belief she still had hope; hope of a real partner, a real man who would be there for her always. Aiden didn’t share that hope, but he admired his mother’s optimism. And she was the eternal optimist, even though the men she gravitated towards were about as much use to her as a fucking pork chop in a mosque. He made allowances for her, providing she didn’t start too much trouble, because whatever people might say about her, he knew that she did the best she could. She pretended that what people said about her didn’t bother her, but it did. Nevertheless she had fronted out each of her pregnancies and she had loved every one of her babies − for that he would always love her in return.

But Aiden was well aware that his feelings for Jade would not be welcomed by this woman who he adored and hated in equal measure because his mum couldn’t cope without him orchestrating her every move and she’d see him moving away from her. He had started protecting her at a very young age and now she depended on him far more than was healthy for either of them. But he was a man now, in his own right. And he was in love, really in love, and he couldn’t think of anything else.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jade Dixon was thirty-four years old and looked a lot younger, but then that had always been in her favour. Jade had started her life in a mother and baby home, before being adopted by a nice,wealthy, Christian couple. The mother she had inherited had been a manic-depressive and the father had a penchant for young girls. Very young girls, the younger the better, so Jade’s life had been blighted pretty much from the get-go. Privilege had come at a big price and she had finally escaped aged thirteen with a man she had met at a fair. He was the first in a long line of men who had seen her, wanted her, had her and ultimately used her in more ways than one. By fifteen she was selling herself and she had learned a valuable lesson: men were to be used, not the other way around.

Since that lightning-bolt revelation she believed she had done quite well for herself and, in the grand scheme of things, in the world she inhabited, she actually had. For a start she was rich; she had her own home close to work and a smart car. She was also practically devoid of anything even remotely resembling empathy or love. The nearest she had come to love was for her dog and when she’d died having puppies Jade had washed her hands of even that. She was like a very beautiful doll that was smashed inside but outwardly looked perfect. She knew how to make the best of her startling good looks and she took pride and pleasure in her appearance. It was, after all, her stock-in-trade. Not that she flogged her arse any more, of course, but it gave the girls she had working for her something to aspire to.

If she could work her way up, why couldn’t they? That was the message she always conveyed, and they believed it. Jade manipulated everyone in her orbit, and she was hero-worshipped by the girls she handled. She made sure of that much.

Now she had been sent a fucking child to train in the ways of the world and, though she would do as she was told, there was an anger inside her about it. But she knew better than to cross Eric Palmer. For all his good-natured banter, he would skin her alive and not even break out in a sweat. Oh, she knew all about Eric and his little foibles.

The new boy, Aiden, seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, and he was easy on the eye. He looked much older than his nineteen years, had a good physique and, in fairness, he had been very well mannered and polite, which was always a plus in her game. So many of the men looked down on the working girls − and that was another thing that angered her. And, as everyone knew, it did not do to get Jade angry. Jade Dixon angry was not a pretty sight and it always ended in tears for whoever had irritated her.

But Aiden intrigued her. He talked about his mother like she was the second coming, and he had looked at her as she had wanted him to look at her. It was always good to have people in your corner, another thing she had learned at a very early age.

So, she dressed carefully for the second meeting with him. She wanted to look her absolute best. She was going to bowl him over.

Chapter Twenty-Three

‘Where you off to, Aiden? You smell like a poke of devils!’

Patsy was holding his nose and laughing. Aiden punched him lightly on the shoulder.

‘I’m off out to learn a new trade, my son. How’s it going with you?’

Patsy smiled, looking pleased with himself. ‘Yeah, good. I’m earning so much money but, like you told me, I am not flashing the cash and bringing any interest down on me.’

Aiden nodded in approval and Patsy preened at the praise.

‘Remember that, mate. People get jealous when you are earning, and they ain’t. The Old Bill might be cunts but they ain’t stupid. So, just save your money somewhere that ain’t a fucking bank, all right? Eric is well pleased with you. Before you know it you will be out there with me.’

Patsy grinned. That was his ultimate goal.

‘So, what’s it like, this new place you’re working, Ade?’

Aiden sighed. ‘To be honest with you, Patsy, I wasn’t too enamoured at first. But once I got me head around it I was all right. It’s interesting, and a bit of an eye-opener, if I am being truthful with you. But it’s a big money-spinner and Eric has got it all sewn up there.’

Aiden smiled, bent down and kissed Agnes and then, walking out to the kitchen, he hugged his mum tightly, saying quietly, ‘Don’t know when I will be back. You all right for a few quid?’

Reeva grinned and said quickly, ‘Well, I could do with a couple of bob, son.’

Pinching her cheek hard, he said jovially, ‘Then ask Tony. I left it with him. Can’t have you going on a bender, can we!’

Reeva was annoyed and it showed – but she laughed anyway. ‘You’re a right wanker at times, do you know that?’

He grinned once more and kissed her on the cheek, saying, ‘I had a good teacher, didn’t I?’

She chased him out of the house, hitting him with a tea towel, making the other kids laugh at their antics. But deep inside Reeva was hurting. There were jokes, and there were jokes. She knew that he didn’t mean any real harm − it still hurt, though.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jade Dixon was watching her new protégé with experienced eyes, and she had to admit he was a clever one. He took everything in without endless explanations on her part or questions on his. Now, though, she saw his eyes widen and she stifled the urge to laugh.

‘Yes, Aiden. That is who you think it is. He is not the only one either. We get all sorts here, from MPs right down the scale to TV stars and family entertainers. That is why it’s so expensive. It’s our guarantee of privacy that they pay for, plus we don’t act as if we are judging them. Though that bloke over there with his cock out is actually a judge!’

They laughed together and Aiden looked around him in amazement. There were more than a few household names here and for some reason that disgusted him further. One man he remembered from a kids’ programme when he was younger. Somehow that made it all the more sinister.

Jade pulled him through to the offices and poured a couple of large Scotches. As they sipped them she said gently, ‘Look, Aiden, someone is going to provide for people like these. Have done since the dawn of fucking time, I should imagine. As Eric so rightly points out, it might as well be us on the earn as someone else. Plus the girls are treated well here. It’s much better than a lot of places − believe me, I know that for a fact.’

Aiden downed the Scotch in one burning gulp and tried to shrug. Despite herself, Jade was pleased at his revulsion. It showed her that he still had some kind of moral code. Not that he would keep it for long − you couldn’t in this game. Whether you were the seller or the sold, it broke everyone eventually.

She poured him another stiff drink and said calmly, ‘Get that down your Gregory and we will go out and mingle with our perverted, fucking well-paying guests and we will smile and act like this is all normal. Take my advice, mate. That is the only way to stay sane.’

He was shocked to hear the rough cockney come out of her perfectly shaped mouth and, despite himself, he laughed at the incongruity of it. He didn’t know what to think, if he was honest.

She held her hand out and he took it, and together they went out and he learned how to play this particular game. But all the time his eyes were on her and they both knew it. Somehow, with her there, he didn’t notice what was really going on around him – the old men with the young girls and boys, the debauched look of them and the way they acted like what they were doing was perfectly natural. He saw a couple of the men look at him speculatively and he felt the anger rising inside him, even as he let them down gently. There were thousands of pounds passing through this place on a nightly basis and, as Jade had pointed out to him, it was a job. Someone was going to do it so it might as well be them. Aiden was a realist and he could see the sense in what she said.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Reeva opened the door to her old friend and neighbour, Francis Mullaney, and she smiled widely in genuine pleasure as she ushered him into her home. Francis was a small man; it was rumoured that in Ireland he had been an aspiring jockey but he had caught the gambling bug. Now he worked at Fords and spent his weekends in the pub like most of the men in their neighbourhood. He had three daughters, if she remembered rightly, and an English wife with badly dyed hair and an underbite.

‘Can I get you a cup of tea?’

He shook his head and also declined the seat she offered him. She saw him looking around in wonder and, instead of her usual pride in her home, she felt a faint uneasiness.

‘So, what can I do you for?’ She was smiling but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Francis shrugged and took a deep breath. ‘Look, Reeva, I need to talk to you about your Patsy.’

Reeva nodded, not offering a word about her son.

‘My eldest, Siobhan, is on drugs and tonight the police brought her home. She had been missing since yesterday morning. When they left I hammered the fecking bejasus out of her. She told me who her dealer was and I went and hammered the bejasus out of that bastard too. The bottom line, Reeva, is it’s your Patsy who’s supplying him, and plenty more besides, according to him.’ Francis stood there expectantly, waiting for her to react.

‘Have you told the Old Bill any of this?’

He looked insulted. ‘Of course not, Reeva. I’m not fecking stupid. Give me some credit, woman.’

‘You can see yourself out. I will sort this, OK?’

Francis left, taking her at her word. Once he was gone she picked up the phone and dialled the pub. Tony needed to get his arse home and get it home now. Then she went upstairs and systematically pulled her two eldest sons’ room apart until she found what she was looking for. Such was her anger it didn’t cross her mind that Aiden might not appreciate her looking through his private stuff. But she was too far gone to think about that.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Patsy O’Hara was amazed to see Tony Brown. He had been talking to a girl called Lisa Gordon at a party inside a tower block in East Ham when Tony came in. He left the party immediately, a worried look on his handsome face. The music was far too loud, and it wasn’t until they were in the lift descending to the ground floor that he finally understood what Tony was telling him. He felt his stomach turn to ice water as he realised the consequences of what was being said. It didn’t help that he was half-drunk and very stoned.

Tony bundled him into his car, a Mark I Cortina, and started driving back to the house while Patsy lamented his actions and questioned exactly how he was going to justify his stupidity to his older brother. Tony listened to him with half an ear; he knew exactly how this was going to end and, if Patsy had half a brain and dropped the drugs, he should know that too.

Patsy was sweating and the fear sobered him up in double-quick time.

Reeva he could handle – he knew she was on his side no matter what – but with Aiden and his new persona, he wasn’t sure about him at all. And it seemed that Tony Brown was feeling exactly the same way.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Jade Dixon had set out to ensnare Aiden, and he was not averse to her actions. In actual fact he could not believe his fucking luck! She had taken him into an empty bedroom in the house that he soon realised was exclusively for her use. There was make-up, clothes and even jewellery there. The room had the particular smell that seemed to emanate from her: expensive perfume and Sobranie cigarettes. And, as she kissed him, he felt as if he was going to explode.

He’d had his share of girls, but this was his first real woman, and it was heady stuff. She even kissed differently, slower, exploring his mouth with her tongue. He could feel the energy pulsing from her and he hoped against hope that he wouldn’t embarrass himself by finishing before he had even started. Pushing him back gently on to the bed, she stripped him and caressed him, and she made him feel like no one ever had before or would ever again. She was good at her job, and he never realised for one second that it was all an act on her part. She did what she always did with men: she used them to her advantage and that always started by her fucking their brains out. Once she had him in her thrall, she knew she would have the advantage over him.

Aiden O’Hara was quite happy to let her use him – in fact, he had never wanted anything or anyone so much in his life before. When she finally let him come, he knew what nirvana felt like and he was eager as fuck to feel it again and again and again. As they lay together afterwards, smoking and drinking Rémy Martin, he felt as if he had finally arrived.

A discreet knock at the door broke the bubble; it seemed he had a private visitor waiting for him downstairs. Jade lay back as he quickly dressed, and she stretched herself out and waited calmly for him to return to her. She was eager to get on to round two. She could see herself in the huge mirrors on the walls, and she eyed herself dispassionately. She knew she was beautiful and she knew exactly how to make the best of herself so the man involved got the best views. It was her life’s work, after all.

She stood up and poured herself another brandy, all the while admiring her reflection. When she finally realised he wasn’t coming back she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. For the first time in years a man had fucked her and left her. Not even a man − a boy. She finally got dressed and went back to the so-called party. If he had achieved nothing else, he had certainly piqued her interest.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Agnes was crying, and her elder brothers were trying to calm her down. But Patsy’s cries and Aiden’s anger were permeating the whole house.

Aiden had never felt such an urge to smack his brother as he did at this moment. How could he be so fucking stupid? Had he taught him nothing?

Patsy was terrified and, as he looked at his older brother, he felt the terrible force of the man’s personality. He was a big lump, was Aiden, but it was more than that. There was an edge to him that told anyone with half a brain that he was capable of killing you without a second thought.

‘You are selling locally? After all I told you about keeping a low profile, after everything I fucking said? Now we have that cunt Mullaney coming round here calling us fucking drug dealers! What are you fucking on?’

Patsy looked at his mother for help, but she just sat there calmly smoking a joint and watching the proceedings without expressing a word. She had served him up, but would she let Aiden really harm him? He feared that she would.

‘I have sent for your little fucking muckers, especially the bastard who grassed you up to that silly whore’s father. Francis might have used a baseball bat on him, but that will seem like heaven after I have finished with him, you useless stupid piece of shit.’

Patsy knew that when his brother was like this the best way to deal with him was to keep quiet − extremely quiet.

Reeva watched her sons dispassionately. This was something that needed to be said, something that needed to be sorted. They could have got their collars felt thanks to this useless lump. But at least now Patsy would heed the warning and listen to his brother’s advice in the future. Her Aiden was going places and he would take them with him, of that much she was sure. And there wasn’t anyone − not even her own flesh and blood − who was going to stop that happening, not on her watch anyway. She knew when to keep her trap shut, what was admissible and what fucking well wasn’t. Dealing to your friends, who then went on to deal to your neighbours, was the height of foolishness and folly. Patsy might just as well have handed himself in to the Filth and been done with it. But then her lad was still young and, as everyone knew, the young were lazy. The only good thing was that the young were still able enough to learn from their mistakes. At least, she hoped so where her Patsy was concerned. He needed a fucking wake-up call, all right.

As Aiden’s fist connected with Patsy’s head, Reeva watched the ensuing beating without a reaction. She was with Aiden on this one.

It was only when the other kids ran downstairs and intervened that Aiden seemed to calm down. Reeva watched him as he pacified them, picking up Agnes and hugging her, talking to them calmly as he sent them back to bed reassuring them that everything was going to be OK and that he would make them pancakes for breakfast.

Patsy lay on the floor, bloodied and bleeding while this was going on, and Reeva left him where he was. He needed a lesson. She felt a moment’s irritation when Tony came into the room with a bucket of ice and started to administer aid to her errant son. But that was Tony all over these days, as soft as shit. It was part of why she cared for him. But, unlike her, he couldn’t see the big picture. She knew her Aiden had deliberately kept his work away from his home, and the fact that Patsy had not understood the importance of that left a lot to be desired where she was concerned. Aiden had pulled them up out of the shit and given them all a good life and that was an achievement in itself.

When Aiden came back in and gently started to help his brother she was happy to do the same. But the message was loud and clear to Patsy and Tony: Aiden called the shots.

Patsy understood then that, as much as his mum loved her children, she would not stand between any of them and her oldest son. He was heartbroken that she could stand by and not intervene as he was beaten. But it was also a learning curve, because he knew now that he had to look out for himself. Patsy needed to man up and prove himself as someone to be trusted in every way.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Eric Palmer was waiting patiently for Aiden to come and explain the situation to him, confident that the boy would have it in hand. He was disappointed that young Patsy didn’t have the nous to know right from wrong but he made allowances because he was Aiden’s brother.

When a contrite Aiden finally arrived, Eric listened to the boy and let him know, in a nice way, that it was deeds such as this that could bring them down. Little acorns and all that, but he was sure that Aiden had sorted the situation out to everyone’s satisfaction. His bloodied knuckles were proof of that.

But Aiden was not appeased. His brother had nearly brought disaster on the family and that would not be easily forgotten, or indeed forgiven. One thing that most people never realised was, like Eric Palmer, Aiden O’Hara held grudges. And he never forgot anything that he felt had in any way cast him in a bad light. He talked his way back into Eric’s good books and left him to go back to the brothel in Kensington. But by the time he got there, Jade Dixon had long gone. Aiden O’Hara was not happy.