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Chapter Seventeen

Jimmy Brick had the hump but no one looking at him would have known that. He had his smiley face on today, on account of it being the kid's birthday party.

He knew, however, that even a kid's party could turn pear-shaped in their world; alcoholic beverages and short tempers were often enough to start a world war.

His niece's christening, for example, had led to a murder and a life sentence for his brother-in-law, who had not been invited due to his habit of clumping her one when the fancy took him. He had been outed from the drum they had once shared by himself and a few others, and had taken it in pretty good part. Until Ursula, his sister, had kissed her new bloke in the back garden of the marital home; cue said brother-in-law scaling fence, the shooting, the screaming of the female relatives and the rest of the Sunday sitting in the Bill shop as they took statements.

No, Jimmy didn't trust even the most innocent of parties or the most innocent of guests. Everyone was capable of a tear-up given the correct set of circumstances; he was convinced of that much. He was determined to make sure that Pat Junior's party was fight free.

The hall looked fantastic, all banners and balloons. The food was weighing down the large trestle tables and the aroma was killing him. Egg and cress got to him every time and he swiped a few and munched them quickly. The bar was now set up and the DJ, an obvious moron, was ready to rock and roll. Jimmy supervised the placing of the tables and chairs, had a quick fag outside the church hall and then, finally, he relaxed. The kid was lucky to have a party like this at ten years old; he had not had anything even close to this for his twenty-first. He was a nice kid though, young Pat Junior. He was a sturdy little fucker and he looked like his old man. Was like the spit out of his mouth, as his mother used to say. The other one, that Lance, was a strange cove and no mistake. He was a head case and there was nothing wrong with that, but Patrick had made a point of keeping him away from the day's celebrations to teach him a lesson. Give him ten years though and he'd be a force to be reckoned with. Missing a party wouldn't be the highlight of his life's disappointments, he would lay money on that much. That Lance was a maniac waiting to blossom and, when he did, God help anyone who got in his way.

Lil was listening to her mother with half an ear. As she brushed Kathleen's hair she marvelled at its softness; in matching cream party dresses the twins looked gorgeous. When they were dressed up, their likeness was somehow even more pronounced although Eileen had darker eyes but, unless you really looked, it wasn't that noticeable.

'When I answered the door and saw your man standing there I nearly had a heart attack.'

Annie was pleased to see she finally had her daughter's attention.

'What, Pat came round yours? That's a turn up for the books.'

Annie nodded with what she hoped was a winsome look. She so desperately wanted to get back into her daughter's good books that she was willing to try anything. She had never felt so lonely in her life as she had the last week or so.

'What did he say?'

Annie smiled slightly and her heavily wrinkled eyes reminded Lil of just how much her mother had missed them all. She seemed to have aged dramatically and, as Lil looked at her, she felt her mother's need of her and her family.

'He just said that Lance was going to be punished and that I would be better off keeping away for a while so you two could sort him out in private.'

Lil was sceptical about that but she didn't voice her thoughts.

Annie was not going to tell her daughter that Patrick Brodie had read her the riot act; had threatened her with total banishment if she indulged Lance any more or treated any of the other children differently from him. He had told her outright that he didn't like her and she was only going to be brought back into the fold if she kept on the right side of him. One false move and she was toast, was how he had so nicely put it.

She had readily agreed; she would walk over hot coals if that's what it would take to get herself back into the bosom of her family. She had stopped herself from going near Lance today, acting as if she wasn't bothered whether she saw him or not. She wasn't fooling anyone, she knew, but at least they could see she was trying. As Lil pulled Eileen on to her lap to brush her hair through and put it into bunches like her sister's, Annie thought that she would die from happiness. Kathleen walked over to her and put her arms up for a cuddle without any coercion from her at all.

'Nanny.'

Annie smiled in delight at the child's words.

'Nutty Nanny Annie.'

Lil could have happily beaten her husband to death for teaching the girls to say that and as she waited for her mother to make a scathing remark she was surprised to see that she was laughing with Kathleen. Really laughing with her and it was such an unusual sight she felt her eyes fill with tears. Her hormones must be on overdrive because she was very tearful lately; the least little thing could set her off. Since Lance had hurt that girl, she had been on a knife-edge and though she knew her pregnancy was the main reason for her mood changes, her son's actions still gave her sleepless nights.

Eileen was laughing as well now and Lil hugged her daughter to her, thanking God for the twins, as she did on a daily basis. They were little angels and she knew that though every woman thought their kids were beautiful, hers really were. Not just to her, but to complete strangers. People always remarked on them when she took them out; they were such happy children and so friendly and contented that they made a stir wherever they went. And if they had melted Annie Diamond's heart then they had to be special, because in all her life she had never managed to elicit so much as a smile from her mother and at times that still grieved her.

Pat Junior walked into the room in his new clothes and Lil watched his handsome face as he picked up both his sisters in his arms and chatted to them in a funny voice. In his new clothes; black Farah trousers and a white Ben Sherman shirt, he looked so grown up she was speechless for a moment. She suddenly saw the young man who was beginning to emerge and she was reminded once more that children were only on loan to you. Before you knew it, they were grown up and getting ready to fly the nest. She so wanted them to feel loved, and wanted them to feel that she had given them a happy childhood. She wanted them to have everything she had never had in her own childhood.

Annie saw her daughter's face and wished she had some gem of wisdom to share with her on this big occasion, but she couldn't remember Lil's tenth birthday, or any of her birthdays, for that matter. They had never celebrated anything and how she regretted that now, for letting her husband rule her, rule them both. She conveniently forgot that she had let him and had become like him. That she had resented the child that had forced her into marriage with him. Annie sighed. You lived and learned and she had been lucky enough to be given a second chance with this daughter of hers and she was grateful for that much.

She wondered if Lil was thinking the same as her as she looked at her eldest grandson, nearly prostrate with excitement at the thought of his party, and thanking his mother over and over again for all the work she had put into it. She couldn't help wondering if this was reminding her daughter of her own empty birthdays and her own childhood, as it was reminding her.

Annie heard the front door open and Patrick Brodie's loud voice as he called out for the birthday boy. Annie was still nervous of him and as she made her way out to the hall and admired Patrick Junior's new bike, she reminded herself she was still on probation as far as her daughter's husband was concerned.

He winked at her and she smiled at him with obvious relief. He grabbed his wife in his arms and said happily to Patrick Junior, 'Ten, eh, son. You'll be eye to eye with me soon. My old man stopped giving me the belt the day I hit eye level. I lamped him one and told him that next time I'd do it when he was asleep and he never tried to beat me again.'

Pat Junior loved it when his father told him stories about his own childhood. As he caressed his new racing bike, he asked him seriously, 'Did he really hit you with a belt, Dad?'

'He fucking hammered me with anything that came to hand. Miserable old bastard he was. Still is, for all I know. But the belt hurt, I can tell you.'

Pat Junior looked at his mother then. 'Did Nanny Annie ever hit you, Mum?'

It was said in jest but he immediately regretted asking because the humour went and she answered flatly, 'Come on, let's get sorted. Make sure you brush your hair for the photograph, OK?'

Pat Junior nodded and he saw his grandmother's face had turned scarlet. He felt the sudden urge to grab his mother in his arms and comfort her, even though he wasn't sure why. His father got there first, though. He watched with sad eyes as his father kissed his mother gently on the lips before saying quietly, 'I love you Lily Brodie and don't you ever forget that.'

Pat Junior felt the urge to cry then and his mother, sensing her son's discomfort, pulled him into her heavy belly and kissing him on the top of his head, she laughed.

'What a bleeding crowd we are, near to tears on the best day of your life!'

Pat Junior felt his father's hand on his shoulder and, embraced by both his parents, he wished that the moment would never end. He felt so safe, so protected and loved that he knew he would carry the memory of this moment all his life.

Dave, Bernie and Tommy Williams were drunk. They had been out on it since the morning and now it was early afternoon they were rocking. As they stood at the bar laughing loudly, they were aware of the looks they were getting from the regulars.

They had not been in this pub for a while and they knew that their sudden appearance would have already been reported back to base camp.

It was the day of the big party and anyone who was anyone would be going to the church hall laden down with presents and good-natured bonhomie.

They knew they were safe enough. Pat Brodie wouldn't be doing a lot today and they had kept a low profile for long enough. Now though, they were all tanked up enough to face young Ricky and his perfectly understandable anger at their need to always be drunk. They would meet up with him eventually, when it suited them, nearer the time. The Blind Beggar public house was packed out, as it was most Saturday lunchtimes. The clientele was an assorted mix of market traders, local shop owners, a few goons and a sprinkling of smalltime Faces.

There had been a time when the name Williams would have afforded them a warm welcome here; free drinks, a decent spot at the bar and the respect their name used to command. Now they were basically being tolerated.

With the drink, mixed with the speed that was coursing through their veins, they felt the cold-shoulder treatment afforded them far more acutely than it actually warranted. They were aware of how far they had sunk and, today more than usual, it really galled them. Seeing people who had once broken their necks for a glimpse of them, who had drunk with them, basking in their little bit of reflected glory, now blanking them so deliberately and, worse still, as far as they were concerned, believing that they could get away with such cuntish behaviour, psyched the two brothers up for what they knew they were going to have to do. Young Ricky was right; he was a shrewdie and no mistake. He knew the ins and outs of the cat's arse where Brodie and Spider was concerned and he had the edge on his brothers because he not only retained information, he also had the ability to put it to good use. He was a rising star all right and this shower of shite would soon realise that and mend their ways. Ricky was right, they had to do something spectacular, something audacious to get their name back where it belonged.

Tommy stared across the bar at a good-looking boy in his middle twenties. He was what they would term a lump, meaning he was bigger than the average, and could take pretty good care of himself. Tommy knew him slightly through Cain and smiling at him, he called out a greeting in a friendly manner; he would come in handy one day, he was sure. The man, a young up-and-coming Face who went by the name of Digger Trent, puffed out his thick lips in derision and shook his head slowly and deliberately, before turning his back on them. With that little gesture, he managed to convey his utter contempt for the brothers more acutely than if he had mugged them off loudly in public.

Tommy saw the width of the lad's shoulders, they were further emphasised by his bespoke leather jacket. Digger had thick dark hair, it was well cut and lay in perfect layers; he was a good-looking fellow and he knew it. He was also at the age where he wanted to progress in his chosen profession; he was collecting debts as well as working a few doors and he had no intention of letting himself be associated with a band of muppets like the Williams lot. He was confident enough in his local to feel perfectly at ease mugging off the ice-creams at the bar. They were a handful but he was confident he could take them if necessary. In fact, doing over known associates was the quickest way to make a reputation for yourself. These men were still hard enough to be chary of, but on the plus side, they were not really affiliated with anyone important any more. Digger was debating whether or not to front them up and see what occurred.

A crony of his, Louie Blackman, was not so confident and he kept a wary eye on the Williams brothers as he sipped his pint of Fosters. He was older than Digger and he knew that the Williams brothers might have fucked up over the last few years, and might well be classed as a joke, but together they were still a fucking formidable force. And when Tommy walked across to where they were standing by the juke box and he saw the glint of his glass, he stepped away as quickly as possible.

Tommy shoved his pint pot into Digger's face with all the strength he possessed. Digger had not known anything about it until the glass crunched into his cheek and eye; he was still standing with his back to the Williams brothers and Tommy had the edge because Digger had not had time to even lift his arms for protection, let alone to defend himself. He dropped to his knees like a stone and Tommy commenced stabbing him over and over again with the remains of the pint pot he had used to blind him with.

The blood was spurting everywhere and Tommy's face and obvious anger served to keep anyone there from butting in or trying to stop him. His Pringle jumper was already soaked with Digger's blood and when he was finally spent, the good-looking young man was a bloody lump lying unconscious at his feet.

Tommy spat on him, the hatred and contempt on his big moon face keeping everyone at a safe distance. Bernie was giving every one the evil eye, his fists raised threateningly. Dave had a large knife in his hand and he was brandishing it with a theatrical laugh. No one was going to step in and face that mad bastard; he looked almost maniacal as he moved about with a flourish, pointing the heavy blade at anyone who caught his eye.

The barmaid, a thin woman with saggy breasts and badly bleached hair, broke the silence as she said loudly and belligerently, 'Oh, fucking great. Just what I fucking needed. Get your arse in gear and fuck off home. I'll get an ambulance on the go, and they'll call Old Bill.'

Tommy grinned at her and she pursed her lips in annoyance. Pointing at the door she shouted in her deep voice, 'Well go on, fuck off before the filth arrive. And don't fucking come back until you have the money to replace my carpet. Look at it, the fucking thing's ruined…'

She was still ranting and raving at him as he left the hushed bar with his brother in tow, laughing and joking. Tommy walked to his car without a thought for how he must have looked; he was soaked with blood. The adrenaline was pumping now and, alongside the speed, he was rocking, he was up for anything.

'Did you see that bloke's fucking face when I had finished with him?'

Dave grinned and Bernie answered him with mock sarcasm.

'No, I was standing there with me eyes closed. 'Course I fucking saw it. Now get the fucking motor going so we can fuck off out of it. We have a lot to do today and Ricky will be wondering where we are. The last thing we need is a fucking tug by Lily Law.'

'Not one of them skanks will put us in the frame, they ain't got the fucking bottle.'

Wheelspinning on to the Whitechapel Road they drove off at speed to meet with Ricky so they could all sort out the bit of business he had arranged, and be home in time for dinner.

'What's the time, babe?'

Lil had just finished getting herself ready when she heard her husband's voice.

She laughed loudly. 'Time you bought a watch.'

It was just on five and she was finally ready to go. The kids were wound up like watch springs. Usually, it took so long to get them all ready, especially the twins, that she never had enough time to sort herself out. Today though, she was determined to look her best and, even with her lump, her reflection told her that she did.

As she walked down the stairs, she saw Patrick's face and, smiling at him, she saw as always the longing for her in his warm blue eyes. Whatever people said about her husband, he had made her so happy.

Lil laughed once more when he wolf-whistled at her and Annie saw the deep love they had between them. As always, it made her feel like an outsider. Even Pat Junior and the twins were quiet as they watched their parents embrace each other.

The depth of her daughter's devotion to the man she had married and his utter and complete love for his wife never ceased to amaze Annie. That her Lil, her daughter, could command that much love from a fine piece of manhood like Patrick Brodie made her feel a jealousy that she hid well, but which ate at her at times like this.

Her own marriage had been devoid of anything remotely resembling love. She had got caught out and she had married the first man who had wanted her. She had spent her whole life without ever having a man hug her, make love to her with passion, or even just chat to her about her day.

That her Lil, the bastard child conceived during a one-night stand where Annie had lost not only her virginity but her pride as well, was capable of having a life that most women could only dream about, was almost impossible for her to believe. It was so unfair, life was so bloody unfair. Her feelings for her daughter swung between pride and hate and she wished that it wasn't so. She prayed for her yearnings to subside and for peace of mind. But the knowledge that her life had been so barren ate away at her. Annie still felt the urge inside her that only a man could satisfy. She still dreamt of being in love and of someone loving her back and she knew it was never going to happen. The nearest she had ever got to true love was with the birth of Lance and, even though she had strong feelings for the others, he was the boy she had always needed, he wanted her.

'Get the camera, Annie, and take a photo of me and my best girls and my number one son. Then we'd best get our arses in gear and deliver me boy to his party.'

As Patrick spoke, Annie hurried to get the camera from the kitchen. When she came back with it she saw Lance standing at the top of the stairs in his pyjamas and he called out to his brother softly, 'Have a good party, Pat. Happy birthday.'

Patrick walked up the stairs to his brother and the twins followed behind him as they always did. Lil was tempted for just a few seconds to let him go to the party; he looked so young and so vulnerable it was hard to believe he was capable of harming a fly, let alone another human being. But she reminded herself that he was an accomplished actor and liar and if they allowed even one chink to appear in their armour he would walk all over them for the rest of his days.

The two boys hugged and even Patrick felt moved by their closeness. They were close those two; Pat Junior was the only person other than the twins that Lance genuinely seemed to care about. It was obvious the boys had a bond of sorts, whatever may have happened in the past. Annie thought he adored her, but she would learn the hard way that Lance, his own son, was a mutant, a quirk of nature. He had too much Brodie in him; it grieved him to admit that but the truth was the truth.

Annie stood quietly in her finery and let her eyes drink in the first sight of her grandson in what seemed like months, though it was only a matter of days. She wished they would allow him to go tonight, wished he could join in with the rest of his family and friends. Although she would not say this out loud, she felt this was a cruel and unusual punishment for the child, and he was, when all was said and done, just a child. They seemed to forget that and she resented the fact she had no status in the family to argue his case for him, dispute his punishment.

There was a knock on the front door and Annie opened it wide. Must be the driver Pat had arranged. He could take the picture of them and she would be in it as well.

Jimmy Brick was getting anxious; the hall was filling with people and presents, the DJ kept playing Slade for two fifteen-year-olds dressed as twenty-year-olds, and the buffet was being eyed-up by a bunch of teenage degenerates with cropped hair and painfully new trousers. The tables were nearly all taken now and people were busy with drinks and snacks and were settling down for the night's entertainment. The parish priest was wandering around like a junkie with a giro and the bar staff, like the priest, were already half-pissed.

Most of the real guests had arrived and these were seated near Patrick and Lil's table, as arranged. He had a few blokes moving through the place, watching out for the first hint of trouble and under strict instructions not to harm anyone physically until they had been removed from the premises. Once they hit the car park, however, it was open season but, until then, it was arm up the back and smiling faces if that was at all possible.

The Palmers were there, their kids all getting ready to slide across the wooden dance floor in their brand-new white socks and the degenerates Jimmy had been keeping his beady eyes on had already whipped a plate of sandwiches and a bowl of trifle from the buffet table. He hoped they were not thinking of coming back for seconds in the not too distant future because he was not in the mood for polite conversation.

Things like this could be treacherous if it was not policed properly, and he was making sure that this party went off with the minimum of fuss and the maximum of enjoyment.

The lights were dimmed; Spider and his girlfriend were chatting with the Brewsters, a large family from south London who were into pornography: books and videos of course. Lenny Brewster, an old mate of Patrick's from childhood, was telling filthy jokes at the top of his voice and, like Spider, he was watching the door. Jimmy glanced at his watch and realised that it was nearly six o'clock. Patrick was cutting it fine, but that was his prerogative of course. They were only down the road and they were probably being waylaid by well-wishers.

The birthday cake was a work of art; it was a large, iced confection that was a replica of Wembley Stadium and the grass looked real from a distance. The baker said, off the record of course so as not to offend anyone, that if he never saw green icing again until the next St Paddy's Day, it would be too soon.

Jimmy Brick was pleased with the turn out and he knew that Pat would be as well; every invitation sent out had been eagerly accepted and Faces and civilians were mixing together easily. The atmosphere was already buzzing with talk and laughter and, since he had delivered a few choice threats to the DJ, decent music. It had a real party feel to it and he was glad that Patrick and his family would be walking in to so much friendliness and camaraderie. He could feel himself relaxing now; he had done his job and once the main man arrived, he could cut himself a bit of slack.

There was also a nice little bird he had his eye on; she was wearing a deep-green chiffon dress and her high heels showed off her slim ankles to their greatest advantage. She had a decent pair of tits on her but he was a leg man and always would be. She had given him a saucy little wink earlier and, on closer inspection, he had observed that she wouldn't frighten anyone on a dark night. All in all, he had a feeling this was going to be a good party for everyone concerned once the guest of honour arrived.

Annie saw the man at Lil's front door and for a split second she wondered if she was imagining things, but when he shoved past her and she saw three other men come bundling into the hallway behind him, she realised that her first impression had been correct.

The first man was covered in blood and she heard Lil scream out as she was knocked flying. Then she saw that the men had knives and saw them start stabbing Patrick. He was trying to fight back, was attempting to stay on his feet, but they had the advantage; there were four of them and he couldn't take them all on at once. As he lashed out they were laughing at him. Then she saw the blood that was suddenly everywhere and she fainted.

Pat Junior and Lance watched the gruesome spectacle while holding their little sisters in their arms, pushing the twins' faces into their shoulders to try to spare them the sight of the carnage below. Pat Junior saw his father shouting and threatening the men; the men he recognised as the Williams brothers. He could hear the men yelling obscenities at his father and the squelching noise as the knives were plunged into his father's head and chest over and over again. Patrick was on his knees now and attempting to crawl away. The boys watched in shocked disbelief as Ricky Williams kicked him in the guts with all the force he could muster, lifting him bodily off the floor. Then, pushing Kathleen into Lance's arms, Pat Junior shouted at him to take them in the bedroom and stay there. Running down the stairs he threw himself on to the nearest of the men, his new shirt already stained with blood and skin. They were still hacking at his father and now laughing at his childish attempts to stop them.

Pat Junior saw his mother on the floor, saw her fear and terror and he felt so useless but he didn't know how to make it all stop. The biggest of the men threw him bodily against the wall and the pain shot through him. Lying on the floor he saw what was left of his father's face and he knew then that his father was dead, knew that the slashing and stabbing was just overkill, was for these men's own enjoyment. He knew that the blood and the laughter would never leave him, knew his life would never be the same again.

Pushing through them, Pat Junior flung himself across his father's bloody carcass. Tommy Williams had the knife raised again ready to plunge it into Brodie's face once more, when Dave stayed his hand. Dave suddenly saw the terrified child lying across his father's body and the enormity of what they had done crashed into his head with the force of a sledgehammer.

'Stop, stop it. You nearly fucking stabbed the kid, you mad cunt.'

Dave's voice seemed to be the catalyst for them to stop and they were now silent, their ragged breathing loud in the quietness. Pat Junior was wracked with sobs and he heard himself crying and calling out 'Dad, Dad', over and over, even though he knew his father would never answer his call again.

Lil, lying in the doorway that led to the kitchen, had watched her husband die as she felt the baby inside her kicking as if trying to escape the madness around them. She kept attempting to pull herself up but she couldn't move; she was a ball of white-hot pain and it was a while before she realised her waters had broken.

She saw Dave sitting on the stairs, his head in his hands as he stared down at what was left of her husband's body. He was unrecognisable as a man, they had literally hacked him to pieces. It was only then that she saw her son, her Pat, dripping with his father's blood and lying across his father's body with his little arms spreadeagled, trying to protect what was left of his father's carcass. It was like a nightmare and she was convinced that at any moment she would wake up and they would be going to the party as planned and none of this would have really happened.

But it had happened. Patrick had been butchered in front of her eyes and her son had been witness to it all and had tried to protect his father. It was his birthday, it was her little Pat Junior's birthday and he was drenched in his father's blood. His new, white shirt that he had been so proud of, his first Ben Sherman shirt, was now crimson and dripping his father's blood all over the hall floor. As Lil looked around her she saw the blood sprayed up the walls and on the staircase. She could hear Dave Williams heaving, watched him empty his stomach contents on to the floor. She knew it was all true, she knew that her husband, her soulmate, was really dead and she was about to deliver his child into the world and he would never see it. He would never hold his child. It was then that Lil started to scream and it was her screaming, the sheer animal ferocity of it, that seemed to snap the Williams brothers out of their combined stupor.

Pat Junior saw them leave the house as if they were going for a stroll. There was no sense of urgency, no fear of capture; they walked out quietly, closing the front door behind them gently, as if all their anger had been spent on his father, which of course it had.

Patrick Brodie Junior was still crying, only it was now a dry, tearless sobbing. Getting up off his father's body he went to check on his mother. With her screams still resounding off the walls he finally managed to stop shaking long enough to ring 999.