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Chapter Fourteen

Spider was feeling the heat and he was not a happy bunny. Cain was starting to irritate him on an hourly basis. The boy was somehow under the mistaken impression that he was more on the ball than his older brother; he was at the stage in life where a few quid and someone else's hard work seemed to make him feel he was the winner of Mastermind: chosen subject, villainy and drug dealing. He was now of the inflated opinion that he could run everything from a bar stool and that his brother, who had been kind enough to pave his way into the world of riches and money, had suddenly acquired the intellect of a Millwall supporter. It was laughable, but worse than that, it was also making Spider very frightened. And that was making him even more frightened.

Life was hard enough as it was without his little brother suddenly developing a death wish. It was as if Cain really thought that he was the brains of the outfit. The young man he himself had schooled and who he had grafted for suddenly seemed to think that he was the alpha male, the dog's gonads.

Cain really thought that he was a fool who would not suss out what was going on right under his nose and that his treachery would go unnoticed and, more to the point, unpunished. It would be funny if it wasn't so tragic.

The Williams brothers were pariahs in their community and what did Cain decide to do? Make them his bosom buddies at the expense of all he had worked for, all he had tried to achieve. Cain was suddenly prepared to overlook him, was prepared to forget everything in a heartbeat. He had no thought for anyone except himself and the shite he had decided to hang around with. Jasper the Rasta was bad enough, he had been hanging with him for a while now but, coupled with the Williams boys, it was a catastrophe of fucking Olympian proportions.

And Cain was so dense that he actually thought that he, Spider, his older brother, the man who had taught him everything he knew, had no idea where his brother's nights were spent and, worse still, what he was doing while on the missing list.

Spider had the unenviable task of telling Patrick the full story, although he had a feeling he already knew all about it. There wasn't much Patrick didn't know about, and what there was didn't merit his attention.

The Williams brothers had offered Cain the earth on a plate, convinced him they were what he needed to succeed and Cain had swallowed it all like the fucking useless no-neck he had become. It was this that was annoying Spider the most: that his Cain, his brother, could be that fucking stupid. Like he could trust white boys. White boys who were now lower down the food chain than the whores they were attempting to pimp and weaker than the drugs they were attempting to peddle in his name, and more treacherous than Judas Iscariot himself.

Cain had always been vain and that must have been how the Williams boys had got into him; it was the only thing he could think of to blame. They must have mug-bunnied for England to get him on their side.

The Williams brothers thought they were the new rude boys and, with Cain onside, they seemed to think they were getting away with it. Except that Cain was only accepted because of his association with Brodie and that, of course, was only because he himself had been onside with Patrick Brodie since day one.

Cain was using his largesse and his goodwill with Patrick to further his own ends. The Williams lot must think that they would be protected because of his connections and that he would make sure his brother would get away with his stupidity. The Williams brothers had taken him for a ponce as well as Cain; they had assumed he would look out for his brother and, to an extent, they had been right about that. But now they had stepped over the line; they had made him out for a fool and that he would not accept.

As much as Spider loved Cain, he had a reputation to uphold and that rep had never included whores or bores, a saying of his father's that had been proved true over and over again. The Williams boys were already starting to bore him and he had never really had much time for them anyway. Cain had finally pushed him too far and he had to retaliate to make him see what he had done. Spider needed to try to salvage something from the mess that had dropped into his lap.

Spider was determined to see that the accident the Williams brothers were going to have came sooner rather than later but did not include his brother in any way, shape or form. Cain was a fool; something he had never believed would have been a possibility until now. But he would save Cain's arse for no other reason than how his behaviour affected him; how he was perceived and how people judged him personally and professionally. Cain was not going to nause up all his hard work by making him look as if he had no fucking idea about what was going on in his own backyard.

In a short time, Cain had gone from someone he would trust with his life to someone he would not trust with his car keys. Quite a leap for two brothers who were proud of their filial affection and who had once believed that together they could rule the world. Their world at least. Spider was having to rethink everything about their relationship and their dealings and work out how best to limit any damage that might occur if Cain was cunt enough to completely disregard him and his teachings.

On top of everything else, his brother had broken the cardinal rule that he had drummed into him over and over again: never take your own products whether it was the women or the drugs. And, if what he had heard was true, ketamine and amphetamines were rife where the Williams brothers were concerned, and the brown was always on the table. They were complete wasters and, like all wasters, they had a habit of taking other people down with them. Cain was slipping further away from him with every day that passed by.

Spider would scrub his brother out in a heartbeat if he ever became a liability; he had always told Cain that. Spider had explained to him that the world they lived in did not allow for sentiment of any kind. Once you blotted your copybook you were out, even if you were family. Trust was all they had to rely on, the only thing that stood between them and jail. Once that trust was broken, no one was safe and that included baby brothers who had been lucky to have family who looked out for them and employed them in the first place; even if they were too stupid to understand that. It meant that even blood would be wiped out without hesitation for the greater good, for the guarantee of equilibrium once more. It was nothing personal as such, it was just the way that their world worked.

The big picture had always been the only picture as far as Spider was concerned and if that meant taking out family then so be it.

'What are you on about?'

Lil came out into the hallway; her mother's voice was loud enough to alert her to trouble and she knew, without asking, that whatever it was, it had been caused by her second son. It was strange but she had been expecting something like this, someone on her doorstep with hate in their heart and profanities on their lips.

It was almost a relief, as if her wicked thoughts needed to be proved true once and for all by an innocent bystander so she could admit the feelings she had towards her son had some kind of basis, some kind of concrete foundation.

Lil knew Lance was trouble and she knew that because she always let her mother sort it out; she was colluding with him, letting him get away with it. By turning a blind eye she had brought this woman to her door and she knew it had to be really serious for her to come here in the first place. Most people wouldn't have had the guts.

Today though, Pat Junior's party was on the horizon and her belly was heavier than ever before, and when her mother's voice was finally expressing her anger at the grandchild she usually defended with all her considerable strength, Lil had finally had enough.

'What's going on?' Lil's voice was hard, the words delivered with unusual vehemence, and the woman on her doorstep, Janie Callahan, was reminded of exactly who she was dealing with.

This was Lil Brodie, the wife of the man everyone around and about revered and feared in equal measure. Lil was a star in her own right and Janie liked her a lot, but today she knew she had to make some kind of a stand and that Lil was the person she needed to deal with, not her mother. Annie Diamond was a two-faced, disloyal ponce who only had the ear of the street because of her connections, because of who her daughter was married to. And she milked that for all it was worth; she was a terror of a woman who used her daughter's name for her own ends. Well, it was going to stop now because Janie was not going to stand for it any more.

Everyone else was terrified about making any kind of complaint about the Brodie kids and this was because Annie protected them, no matter what they did. Especially the main culprit, Lance. Lance walked on water as far as Annie was concerned and he was aware of the power his name gave him. Lance was a bully and bullies needed to be reined in sooner rather than later.

Janie Callahan was like any mother worth her salt; she was willing to take on anyone to protect her kids and if that meant taking on Annie, then she was going to do just that. If it meant taking on Lil, then she was willing to do that as well. But she knew in her heart that Lil was someone to be reasoned with, someone who had a bit of sense; at least she hoped that was the case.

Janie felt angry enough to take the lot of them on, even Patrick Brodie himself, if needs be. Her children needed to know that she was looking out for them and they needed to feel safe. Janie was determined to make sure that they were, no matter what the cost to her personally.

'Get in, Lil, you are not in any condition to deal with this.'

Lil saw the confusion on her mother's wrinkled face and then she shoved her none too gently out of the way. That gesture was enough to quieten her.

Lil had always liked Janie and she wanted to know why she was on her doorstep reading them the riot act. It had to be serious because Patrick Brodie was a byword around the streets and she knew just how hard it must have been for Janie to come knocking on her door. She sighed deeply, wondering what her son had done to merit this kind of reaction.

'Get out of the way, Mother. Come in, Janie, love, and tell me what on earth the problem is.' Lil's voice was calm and she stepped aside so that Janie could walk into her home; she needed to sort this out and she needed to know what had been the cause of the woman's upset. She wanted to know what that little fucker had been up to this time.

Lil was aware that she also had to make some sort of stand in front of her neighbours; it was how they lived and how they survived. So she stepped outside her front door and looked at the women in the street; they were all standing on their doorsteps waiting to see the outcome of this little drama whilst pretending they had no interest whatsoever. Lil stared at them all, one after the other, her eyes hard and her jaw clenched in anger. She knew how to play the game and she played it with a quiet contempt that was as insulting as it was threatening.

'Had your fucking look?' Her voice was harder than she intended but it had the desired effect. The women knew they had overstepped the mark and she knew they would be chary of repeating that mistake in the future.

Janie was now inside the house and, hearing Lil's angry voice, her earlier bravado was deserting her by the second.

Lil could feel the fear and the loathing coming off Janie Callahan in waves; she saw the widening of her eyes and the way she bit on her bottom lip. She knew that it had taken every ounce of courage Janie possessed to come and knock on this door. She knew that this was serious, that this was not about the usual childish arguments or the kids' pranks so prevalent in the street. Janie was on a mission and her mother's quietness was, in itself, enough to convince her that Lance was indeed the culprit and that, as she had thought earlier, he had been seriously out of order.

Lil was frightened of hearing what Lance had done, and yet she knew it was inevitable that she would be regaled about his latest misdemeanour.

'Make a cuppa, Mum.'

She smiled at Janie and it took every ounce of courage that she possessed. Then she said quietly and with a friendliness she didn't actually feel any more, 'Come through to the lounge, Janie, and let's sort this out, shall we?'

Janie nodded in relief but she saw the way Annie looked at her and knew she had just made herself an enemy for life.

Cain was out of his box and his smile was as phoney as his annoyance was real. Leonard Barker was never happy at any time, but giving this young man the news that his brother was searching for him all over the Smoke was making him even more depressed than usual. Cain had to be some kind of mug; Leonard would give his eye-teeth to have someone on board with him like Spider. But Cain was so blitzed he just shrugged it off.

Leonard walked from the room; he had done his chore for the day and he wanted to distance himself from this man as fast as possible.

Having heard the bad news, the Williams brothers were scattering. They were suddenly off for the evening, leaving Cain alone even though they knew he was not fit to use the toilet without help. But that was the Williams boys all over, they seemed to enjoy taking this boy down with them. And Cain himself was galloping towards obscurity and censure as if it was the only thing he wanted in the world.

Leonard Barker was collecting glasses out the front of the Speiler when he saw Patrick Brodie slip through the door. There were a few regular customers at the bar and Leonard noticed how Patrick was being observed without anyone actually looking directly at him. He waved nonchalantly at no one in particular and everyone in there greeted him heartily. Leonard felt his heart sink down to his boots and wished that his boss wasn't such a lazy cunt so he would not have to be the person overlooking this pile of shite. He would be glad when Cain finally got his comeuppance.

Patrick nodded at him in a friendly way; no one would ever guess at his anger or his dismay that it had come to this. He opened his arms as if in supplication and Leonard Barker nodded almost imperceptibly towards the back room knowing that Brodie would have all the information he needed before he would have even deigned to walk through the doorway. It was a game that had been played out over and over again for years and the only changes were the players in the little soap opera. This time though, a renowned lunatic, Patrick Brodie, had seen fit to sort his problems out in public and Leonard knew it could go either way for him because of that. He would either be the villain of the piece or the knight in shining armour, depending on the outcome.

Leonard just wanted his wage in his back pocket and fuck the dramas that came and went with a depressing regularity. He was further dismayed to see two huge men come into the bar with baseball bats neatly wrapped in red insulating tape. When the dirty deed was done they could unwrap the tape and burn it, thereby leaving the bats in pristine condition for further use and any evidence as ash.

Two of the regulars at the bar drank up and walked out quickly without saying their usual good-humoured goodbyes and this seemed to be the sign for a general exodus, as was expected. No one questioned anything; the atmosphere said enough and no one wanted to get caught up in the situation here, and who could blame them?

Patrick smiled then and Leonard poured him a large Scotch before shutting the bar flap and leaving the place himself. He would sit it out in the cold and wait for them to vacate the premises before going back inside. Brodie owned the bar, even though he didn't run it, and Leonard knew that Cain was about to find out just what owning something or, more to the point, someone really meant.

Leonard sat outside in his little Hillman Imp and rolled himself a cigarette; his hands were trembling and that annoyed him. He started up the car and pushed a cassette into his eight-track system. Elvis Presley's voice filled the void around him and he closed his eyes and wished to Christ that he too felt lonesome tonight.

'What's wrong then, Janie?'

Janie sighed heavily. Her earlier bravado had deserted her and she was perched on the edge of the sofa with a dry mouth and a heart that was beating so loud it was almost drowning out her own thoughts.

Lil was aware of the woman's discomfort and she smiled once more, feeling phoney because a large part of her didn't want to hear what this poor woman had to say.

'Lance is bullying my kids, Lil. I can't sit back and let him, it's gone too far this time.' It was out, it was said and the world had not come to an end.

'In what way?'

Lil was asking all the right questions, she knew, but the truth was that she could have written Janie's script for her. But what Janie answered was nothing like what she had expected and she had, as always where Lance was concerned, expected the worst. She was stunned as she listened to the woman talk.

'Eight stitches in the head and that was when Lance pushed her off the bus…'

Janie trailed off as she saw the shock on Lil's face. She had assumed that Lil had heard about it. It was the talk of the school; not that they were willing to do anything about it. But what could Janie do? This had to be resolved because her kids were in mortal fear of even leaving the house.

'Her? Did you say her?'

Janie nodded. Her long face was even more worried now as she realised that Lil really had no idea about what had happened and she had gone so white she looked on the verge of fainting. Lil's huge belly and swollen legs were suddenly all Janie could focus on and she saw that Lil Brodie was ill. She was also in a state of total shock at the news she had just imparted to her. She guessed that Annie made sure Lil didn't get any information until after she had edited it to her own satisfaction.

'My Lisa is only six and he pushed her off the bus; she landed in the road on her barnet and the hospital said she was lucky she wasn't hurt really badly. Lil, I don't want to put this in your lap; I can see you are ready to drop but I can't let this go on. Lance has tortured them and he mouths me off if I say anything. He effs and blinds at me. I don't want to cause any trouble for you… I don't want Patrick after me, but if that's what it takes… It's either this or I have to move and I ain't got the wherewithal to do that as I am sure you know… Me old man's banged up.'

Janie's voice was breaking now with sheer relief that she had said it out loud. Lil looked awful and Janie was sorry for her because she could see the woman genuinely had no idea about any of it. If she had not seen her reaction with her own eyes she would never have believed it.

Lil was digesting everything she had just heard and was now trying to make some kind of sense of it. She was stiff with anger and humiliation; this woman honestly believed that she had known of her son's antics and that she had allowed those things to happen without any kind of redress. Did everyone else think that? Did they assume that she didn't care? Did people think she condoned his behaviour?

She was mortified because she knew that it was her fault if people did think that about her because she had no interest in the boy or in what he did or didn't do. She had no trouble believing what the woman was telling her, and she knew that she should at least be trying to justify his behaviour, make allowances for him, at least try to defend him, but she had no intention of doing anything like that. Instead, she jumped up and bellowed her son's name out with all the force she could muster.

The kids had shot into the bedrooms when she had shouted at her mother and as they trooped back downstairs now she could feel the heat of humiliation and shame wash over her face and neck. The child seemed to move inside her with a sickening wrench and she had trouble staying on her feet.

Pat Junior and the girls were in the hallway and Lance was behind them, his eyes wide and, as always, displaying an innocence she knew he had never really possessed. He was a devil in disguise and she flew at him with a speed that belied the heaviness of her aching body. All she wanted to do was hurt him to make him realise exactly what he did to others; she wanted him to feel the same emotions as his victims.

Lance tried to escape her wrath and she grabbed at his ankle as he attempted to run back up the stairs. She dragged him by his legs and his screams were loud and piercing but she ignored them. She pulled him into the front room and flung him on to the floor. He lay there panting in fright and she saw the terror in his eyes as she shrieked at him. Her mother was trying to calm her down and she grabbed the front of Annie's carefully buttoned cardigan and thrust her back out into the hallway, nearly knocking her over in the process. The children were all staring at her as if she had gone mad. She didn't feel like she had gone mad though, she felt as if she had finally woken up from a bad dream. She felt as if she was free at last.

Annie's voice was cajoling her now, she was trying to calm her down. Instead it made her anger swell inside her like a canker that was about to burst.

'Lil, calm down, love. He wouldn't do anything like that. He's a little fucker, granted, but he wouldn't do that. They pick on him…'

Lil shook her head in despair at her mother's words and, placing her hands on her ample hips, she said with derision and contempt, 'Oh, Mum, fuck off, will you? He could murder all the neighbours in broad daylight with an axe and you'd say they must have deserved it. That they must have done something to him.'

'You going to take her word over mine then?'

Lil saw the hurt on her mother's face and the frown lines etched there so she looked old before her time and she actually felt pity for her. Annie was almost delusional where Lance was concerned; it was as if she saw a different boy to the one everyone else did. She held herself in check knowing it was pointless talking to the woman before her, a woman she didn't even like most of the time, but who she had thought she needed.

'Take the kids upstairs, Mother, and don't fucking come down again until I tell you.'

Annie was beside herself with grief for the boy she could see no wrong in.

'Nanny Annie, please, Nanny Annie, don't leave me with her…' Lance was choking on his sobs now and even with the tears running down his handsome face, the face that was so like his father's, and his pitiable crying, Lil still couldn't find it in her heart to feel any kind of pity for him.

He tried to bolt from the room then, to get away from her, and she grabbed him by the hair and dragged him back inside. Then, slamming the front room door closed, she untangled the arms that were now desperately trying to grip her round her waist to make her cuddle him and she laid into him with all the strength she possessed.

Her blows were heavy and carefully delivered. He curled into a ball on the floor so she grabbed him once more by his hair and, holding him upright, she gave him a beating that was as vicious as it was overdue. He was bleeding and she could smell the fear coming off him in waves but it just added to her anger and her need to teach him a lesson that would be remembered his whole life.

She could hear herself shouting at him and in her rage she couldn't even comprehend what she was saying to him: 'You fucker, you bullying, wicked fucker…'

Lil was screaming the same words over and over again and Janie sat and watched the scene before her with an awe that she would say later was due to the fact that Lance was still denying any wrongdoing even after his mother had opened up his eyebrow. She would tell people in a hushed voice that Lil Brodie was like a maniac, that she had doled out a hiding many a man would have been loath to be on the wrong end of. She would tell anyone who asked her that Lil Brodie was a decent woman who had administered a beating to that little bastard to teach him the error of his ways. She had paid him out tenfold for her girl's injuries and without realising it, Janie set out Lil's reputation as a battler once and for all.

Lil was crying now, a low groaning cry of despair and disappointment and long strings of snot were hanging from her nose as she knelt over the boy, and, forcing down the urge to crack his skull open with her clenched fist, she said to him, 'I'm on to you, boy, and you will get this or worse every time you step out of line. You fucking bully, you rotten, stinking bully.'

Lance stared up at the woman he alternately loved and hated and he said through his tears, 'It wasn't me, Mum, it was Patrick… I swear… I swear to God…'

Lance was still lying to her, still trying to worm his way out of it. He had not a scrap of shame or pride inside him. Lil pulled his head up towards her face with a force so great that his teeth crashed together loudly enough to make Janie Callahan jump. Lance could feel her breath on his face once more as she bellowed at him.

'You liar, you are still fucking lying. Tell me the truth, you mad bastard, tell me the truth or I swear to God I'll fucking bury you!'

She was staring into his eyes and he knew then that she meant every word she said. She saw the lids of his eyes come down like blinds on a window and knew he was changing tack. The knowledge depressed her even as it worried her. He was such a strange child and now she had acknowledged that fact to herself and to Janie Callahan, she felt her fear of him evaporate.

'It was me. I'm sorry, Mum… I'm sorry… She was looking at me… She thinks she is better than us she does.'

The whine in Lance's voice, and his constant lying, was too much for her. What the hell had she bred? Where the hell did this child come from? Lil threw him away from her then as if the effort of touching him was anathema. Then, holding on to the arm of the sofa, she pulled herself up from the floor with difficulty and Janie quickly leapt up to help her. She had been silent as she had watched Lil take matters into her own hands. Before, she would have laid out money that Lil had been aware of her son's reign of terror; how wrong she had been. And how relieved she was now that her kids would finally be free of the little boy who looked like an angel but had the vocabulary of a sailor.

Lance was battered and bloody and Janie could feel no remorse for what had happened to him. Like his own mother, she felt only distaste and relief that he had finally got his comeuppance. She had enjoyed seeing him squirm and it bothered her that a young child could stir up such feelings inside her.

'Get out of my sight.' He dragged himself up slowly and Lil could see that she had gone too far, that she had really hammered him, but she didn't care. There was a kink in Lance's nature and she was going to iron it out if it killed her.

When Lance was gone from the room, Lil sighed and, lighting a cigarette, she pulled on it deeply. Blowing out the smoke noisily, she said sadly, 'I am so sorry, Janie. I knew nothing about it. Is the little one all right?'

Janie nodded. Taking the proffered cigarette, she lit it and said, 'He could have killed her, Lil, and it was that which brought me round here. I don't want any trouble and you know that. But my kids are mortally afraid of him. Not a day goes by but he is at them…'

She was crying again now. The sympathy that was in Lil's eyes made her break down.

'Where was my Pat while all this was going on?' She was suddenly afraid that her eldest son was a part of it all.

Janie shrugged and wiped at her eyes with a grubby tissue, the cigarette stains on her fingers showing just how bad her nerves had become. Looking at her with the cigarette dangling from her lips and the tear-stained face that was blotchy and swollen, Lil saw her own life if she wasn't careful. Lance was capable of making her into the wretch she saw before her and she was determined not to let that happen.

'He puts a stop to him if he catches him. He's a good boy, Lil.'

The words were like a balm to Lil and she sighed again, heavier this time, before bellowing once more at the top of her voice, 'Don't you dare go up to him, Mother…'

She got out of the chair again and, as she walked from the room, Janie could hear Annie Diamond arguing with her in hushed tones.

Janie looked around her at the lovely home that Lance lived in and she wondered at a boy who had everything laid on a plate and who still was going to the bad. The carpet was new and reached all the walls, the furniture was expensive and comfortable, and even the ashtrays were coloured glass, shaped like big blue fishes. A colour TV stood in the corner and velvet curtains adorned the windows. It was like something from a magazine or a shop window. Yet she wouldn't trade places with poor Lil for all the money in the world.

'I mean it, Mum, you leave him to stew in his own juices.'

Annie was agitated and upset. Lil was amazed at the way her mother felt for this child of hers, considering the woman had never once shown her so much as a scrap of affection while she had been growing up. No Christmases, no birthdays, nothing; it was as if she had not existed. Now she was willing to argue for a boy who had thrown a six-year-old child off a moving bus. As she pushed her mother none too gently down the stairs, she said in a deep whisper, 'Fuck off home, Mother, and leave me to sort this out.' Annie was beside herself as she said quickly, 'You ain't going to tell Patrick are you?'

Her voice was high with fear and Lil was aware that she was shaking with emotion; her mother, on whom she would have bet her last penny that no real emotion had ever existed inside her body.

'Fucking right, I am telling Patrick. That child needs sorting out once and for all and I am going to make it my business to see that happens.'

Annie was shaking her head like a wet dog, and then she shrieked: 'He was only being a boy. All kids do silly things, Lil. Please don't tell Pat about this. Pat will kill him; you're bad enough but Pat don't know his own strength…'

^'Go home, Mother. Leave me and my family alone. And while we are talking about Pat, he will blame you for all this anyway, so make yourself scarce before he aims you out the door once and for all.'

Lil went up the stairs then and looked in on Lance, he was lying on his bed sobbing and alone and she was reminded of how little he was really. But his plight still didn't move her in any way. He was looking at her now with his big blue eyes and she saw the cunning behind them and shivered. He was a vindictive little bugger and she wondered where he had got that from. It had to be from her mother. Annie could be cold, she knew, and she was going to make a point of curtailing the time she spent with him.

When this baby arrived, she was going to take control of the reins once more, and she was going to watch him like a hawk. She never wanted to hear another story about him and his hate-fuelled antics ever again. This all stopped today. She was determined to make Lance finally appreciate that all his actions had consequences.

Closing the door on the sobbing boy, she went into Pat's room where the wide-eyed girls were sitting on his bed holding hands tightly as Pat Junior read them a story.

'Is he all right, Mum?'

Lil nodded. She was unable to trust herself to speak to a boy who was worried about his brother even though all his troubles were self-inflicted and even though it would ultimately make his own life easier if he didn't have to look out for him constantly. Pat Junior's loyalty was astounding really, considering who he was wasting it on.

That her children had been frightened by her actions was evident in the quiet around her and the fact that the girls didn't run to her as usual for a hug; they just stared at her as if she was a stranger in their midst.

Going back downstairs, she made a cup of tea for her and Janie; and a friendship was born that day that would last the two women a lifetime.

If Lance had done nothing else in his short life, he had brought these two women together as friends.

Cain was watching warily as Patrick circled him holding a chair leg in his hands he had retrieved from the debris of the office. Cain had been beaten to within an inch of his life and he had put up a good fight; in fact, Patrick and his cohorts were secretly impressed. The place was a shambles but Cain was taking it like a man and that stood him in good stead with his protagonists. His defence had surprised them somewhat with its ferocity, after all the drugs he'd taken.

As Cain sat watching them through swollen eyes he waited for the next assault that he knew would be forthcoming sooner rather than later. The weight of the weapon in Patrick's hands was evident in the way he was handling it; it was cumbersome, and the straight edges could do a lot of damage to skull and bone. And even though Cain was out of the game in comparison to the three men around him, he was with it enough to know that he was still in for a rough night. He was running on pure adrenaline now, unsure of exactly what was going on; he had no idea why Brodie was even there. Cain was unable to function properly, he couldn't even remember what this was all about.

The ketamine was kicking in once more and he felt the sweat envelop his body. He could smell it, a dank staleness that, until his foray into the world of the drug user, as opposed to the drug dealer, would have made him feel physically ill. The tannic taste of blood was in his mouth and the cocktail of drugs in his system was making him feel invincible. He was once more of the opinion that he could fight his way out of the room. The ketamine, a powerful horse-tranquilliser, was once more rushing through his system and mixed with the amphetamines he had been snorting with it for the past eight hours, it was confusing him. His mind was raving once more and the paranoia was creeping up on him. The sweat was running down his face and blurring his already limited vision. He could see the men looking at him, could make out their features as if he was looking through water; they were talking to each other and he knew it was about him. But he couldn't understand what they were saying. They were cunting him though, he was convinced of that, taking him for a mug and they expected him to sit and take it?

Cain shook his head and laughed at their foolishness, that they thought he wouldn't punish them for their outrageous insults to him? That he would swallow this kind of treatment? He screamed and, using his considerable strength, he jumped up from the seat and launched himself at Patrick Brodie. He was almost feral and his teeth were bared as he attempted to bite his face, tear off an ear or rip off his nose. The attack was as fast as it was unexpected and Patrick brought the chair leg down on his head and body over and over again until he finally stopped trying to rise up from the floor. He lay there, a bloody mess, his mouth open as he gasped for breath while still attempting to mutter obscenities and threats at his attackers.

Patrick stared down at him in amazement and, pushing him on to his back, he placed the chair leg on a nearby desk. Then he lit himself a cigarette with a calmness that belied his real feelings.

Looking at the two men with him, he said quietly, 'Out of his nut or what?'

The bigger of the two men shrugged. 'That ketamine will do it every time, mate; sends them off their shopping trolleys.'

Patrick nodded sagely and went out into the empty bar.

He took the drink offered him by Leonard who had slipped back into the club a few minutes before and he gulped at the whisky, enjoying the burn as it went down into his belly. The fire of it was giving him the jolt he needed.

Leonard replenished his glass immediately and then he poured out two lemonades for the others. He knew that, unless Patrick said otherwise, soft drinks were all that would be allowed to them.

They sipped their drinks and chatted amongst themselves in the carnage of the trashed club as if nothing was amiss.

'Is the juke box still working?'

Pat knew that Leonard would have taken stock of everything that would need replacing in nanoseconds; he had done it enough times before and when he nodded, he said happily, 'Stick on "Hotel California" will you? I fucking love that record.'

Leonard did as he was asked and then he set about cleaning up the place as best he could, joining in with the ribald conversation at the bar and explaining to any punters who came knocking that the place would be closed for a few days on account of it being redecorated.

No one questioned that this place was redecorated four or five times a year on average. Thanks to long opening hours, excessive alcohol consumption, betting, women, football and occasionally religion, all these were things that seemed to make men capable of murder.

It was still early evening and so Leonard was hopeful of getting an early night for a change. As he always said, one man's loss was another man's gain. He hoped his old woman had partaken of her weekly bath and hair wash, he was in the mood for a quick flash and a bacon sandwich.

Cain was conveniently forgotten. He had been ironed out, straightened and sorted.