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Chapter Twenty-Six

Spider was listening to the men around him with interest. He knew they were all wondering why he had not attempted to do anything about Pat's hold over the West End. Spider was renowned for never discussing anything unless he wanted to, so no one thought it strange that he chose to overlook the heavy hints around him.

He looked at his boys; a lot of them were young, up-and-coming wide boys getting an education at his door. But he knew in his heart that at least one of them was in the pay of Brodie Junior, maybe even more than that. It wasn't anything he knew for a fact, it was more a natural progression. Young Pat was everywhere and there wasn't a scam on the go that he didn't have a hand in.

Spider knew Pat was backed by the best. The people he had been banged up with had seen his potential, Spider had seen it himself. Pat was such an astute businessman and knew exactly what was required; how to get the maximum for the minimum. He also had a rep that was even more respected than his father's.

None of that bothered him personally, it was the way he had come home and acted like his long-lost son, thanked him for his help over the years with the family and had then just blanked him. Not in any way that he could jump on, could use against him; it was a more personal insult. He said all the right things but Spider knew that he didn't mean any of it. And yet his son and Patrick were as close as ever. Indeed he wondered at times if it was his son's friendship with Pat that was keeping him alive. Because Spider knew that if Patrick wanted him gone, then gone he would be.

Spider was a realist; he knew the score in this world and he also knew that everyone had a shelf-life, even Pat Junior. It was the law of the pavement. If a big sentence didn't get you, a bastard with a grudge would. People in their world rarely died in their beds; each generation was waiting to step into the next pair of boots and, from what he had heard, Pat had been offered them on a plate.

He watched as his son rolled a joint. He knew he had served up Jasper to Pat and he respected that. But what Spider didn't understand was why no one, even his own flesh and blood, thought it appropriate to tell him what was going on. He had heard it from one of his guys; like a gossip, he was having to ferret out information. Yet nothing had occurred for months, and everyone was relaxed, except for him. He knew that Pat was like his father; he would exact his revenge slowly. If it took years, that would suit him; he would wait until the person concerned was settled in their life and work and sure that they were safe and then he would take great pleasure in proving them wrong. That was the real power of revenge, taking it when the person concerned least expected it, and had the most to lose.

His son was a part of all that planning and yet he had never mentioned it to his own father. He felt like an outsider and was being treated like one into the bargain. The main earner for the younger boys was the dope; it was almost their only business and he knew it was the thing that interested them most. They were all stoned and they were getting on his nerves.

He saw Jimmy Brick come in and he waited a few minutes before joining him. The man was in the same boat as he was and, like him, he didn't know where the fuck he stood any more either. And, like him, he couldn't gather any information; it was almost as if they had been singled out for ostracism. They were getting closer by the week and it was not going unnoticed. They knew everything was reported back to the powers that be. How times had changed and it was hard admitting that you were past your prime, past your best, especially when you felt stronger than ever.

Lil was tired. The doctor was back once more for poor Kathleen and they were trying to get him to see her properly. When he went into the room, Kathleen acted so normal, so together even Lil wondered if she was imagining the rest of it. But she had talked the doctor into pretending to leave and then sneaking back up the stairs and listening outside the door of her bedroom so he could hear her talking to herself.

Lil knew he thought she was the nutter but she also knew that he had to make sure that what she said wasn't true. Kathleen had developed black eyes and bruised arms and they were not caused by anyone in the house. She had to be hurting herself. And, as much as it pained Lil to admit that, she knew it was true.

Kathleen didn't eat and she didn't sleep. She refused to leave the house and she refused any kind of company. Even Lance was hard-pushed to get inside the room and he was the only one who seemed able to get through to her. Pat was welcome occasionally and every so often Kathleen was chatty with her; it was seldom though and she did most of the talking. Lil's growing belly seemed to attract her. She was interested in the coming baby, as were Colleen and Christy, they couldn't wait for it to be born.

As the doctor stood quietly on the landing listening out for her beautiful, troubled daughter to begin talking to herself, Lil wondered at how a life could be so plagued with problems and worries. She prayed that this child would have an easier time of it than her other children, that it would know at least a modicum of peace. This was her last chance to get it right and she knew it. She was focusing all her energy on this baby and the three younger children. She only hoped she wasn't wasting her time.

She heard Kathleen's voice then. She heard her talking to no one, but over the last few months she had listened intently and she knew that Kathleen thought there were at least two people with her.

She didn't really understand the conversations but Kathleen seemed to get some sort of benefit from them. She seemed happier somehow and that was what was so terrible. Lil just didn't know what to do and if the doctor didn't sort it out soon she knew that Pat was going to force Kathleen into a mental hospital. He was of the opinion that she should have been carted off ages ago, but he also knew that Kathleen's biggest fear was being put away. Of being perceived as mentally ill.

She had such a strange take on life; sometimes she washed everything she possessed and yet she wouldn't put any of it in the wardrobe or chest of drawers. Everything was hung on doors or folded up on the bed; it had to be in plain sight. She was not yet fifteen, and she was already being written off.

The doctor had heard enough and as he walked quietly back down the stairs, Lil followed him, her heart sore because she knew what he was going to say.

Eileen was in the back of her boyfriend's van. It was a warm night and her latest boyfriend, a thirty-year-old docker with brown eyes and a penchant for schoolgirls, was trying to talk her out of her top. She was happy enough with the kissing but somehow this was going a bit too fast for her now. He had her bra unhooked and her top up and she was having difficulty controlling the situation. As she pushed his hands away once again, he grabbed her wrists and, grinning, he pinned her arms to her sides. She lay back in her seat and looked at him warily. She had met him in a pub in Essex a few weeks earlier. He was a grown man and he made her feel like an adult. He treated her like a woman and now she was finding out exactly what that entailed.

'Listen, lady, don't prick-tease. I ain't hearing the word "no", do you understand me?'

Eileen was trying to force him away from her, trying to bring her arms up from where he had pinned them to her sides and he was laughing at her, he thought she was funny.

'Please, Nick. Please, let me go.'

He was watching her with interest; she was so young and so naive, just how he liked them. She was sweating with fear and he could see it glistening in the half-light. But he was not worried, she would give in, they always did. This was the excitement for him, the chase itself. She was so perfect, so innocent and her make-up just made her look younger, like a little girl dressing up in her mum's clothes. Her fear was making her pant and the sound was making him hard. A bead of sweat dripped from her chest and on to her belly; she was fighting to keep her modesty and attempting to pull down her top. But Nick Parks was an expert at this; he had popped more cherries than a fruit picker on speed.

'Please, Nick. I ain't done anything like this before.'

She was trying to reason with him, to make him understand that she had got herself in a position that she wasn't able for and that she wasn't mature enough to handle. She actually believed that he would stop what he was doing and take her home.

He was lowering her seat and she could feel herself being forced backwards and she knew that once she was horizontal she was finished. His hand was groping her and his knee was trying to force her legs apart. She regretted wearing a denim two-piece; the skirt was so short and the cropped jacket hardly covered her breasts. She had felt like an adult when she had put it on but now she wanted to cry. She was frightened and his tongue was raspy from the cigarettes he smoked and the speed he had snorted all night. He tasted disgusting and her stomach was rebelling against him and what he was doing. He was covering her mouth with his so she couldn't even call out and she was pinned to the car seat, unable to even move her face away from him, let alone anything else. She could sense the urgency inside him and feel the hardness of him against her thigh. He was pulling her knickers down, exposing her to the night, and she was mortified. She used all her strength and tried to buck him off her. It just made him laugh more.

'Come on, little girl, you've been leading me on all night and I ain't going nowhere until I get what I want.'

She was really crying now and Eileen knew that all the things her mother had told her were true; that most men just wanted one thing and when they got it they lost interest. She could feel the tears rolling down her face and Nick's knee was trying to force her legs apart when the van door opened.

Nick Parks looked behind him, ready to bawl someone out, when he felt himself being dragged bodily off the girl. He regarded himself as a reasonably hard nut and he took a swing at the man. It was only then that he saw there were two of them and that they were policemen.

Eileen jumped from the van as fast as she could and the young policemen saw she was trying to pull her clothes back into place.

'You all right, love?'

'Course she's fucking all right, we're courting.'

The way Nick was talking about her made Eileen wish she had never left the house and had never gone to the pubs in Ilford and Barking. She regretted the rush she had been in to grow up and get away from her family and the house full of people who loved her and wanted the best for her.

She started crying then. 'I want to go home… I just want to go home…'

Eileen was in a country lane somewhere and she had no cab fare. She was frightened that the policemen would leave her behind if she wasn't careful. The two policemen took pity on her, they could see the situation and they both wished they had a pound for every time they came across it. They'd never have to work again.

'What's your name, love?'

'Eileen. Eileen Brodie.'

'Get in the fucking van, you silly bitch and stop fucking about.'

Nick was trying to act like they were an item and he knew he was not being very convincing. But this child was making him look a mug. Another ten minutes and she'd have been popped and on her way home. He was still on the cusp and he wanted to do the dirty on her.

'Shut your trap and let the girl talk, will you?'

Nick was staring at her with a look of complete longing on his face and Eileen knew then how sneaky he could be.

'Come on, babe, you don't want to cause any trouble now, do you?'

He was the nice guy once more and his handsome face looked as if he had never had a bad thought. Eileen shook her head sadly.

'Can you take me home, please, or at least give me a lift to the train station?'

'Get in the car, love, we'll sort you out.'

She climbed into the police car then and she hated the feel of it.

'You had better watch out in the future, mate. Jailbait can get you in a lot of trouble. Now piss off.'

Nick drove off in his van and Eileen watched him go with tears running down her face. She didn't like all this growing-up lark, it was scary. Nick was the last in a long line of older men she seemed to gravitate to and she didn't know why. This was the first time that she had been frightened though. She had only ever teased them in the pub before this, giving them the talk and acting older than she was. Now she knew how dangerous that could be. The two policemen were young and friendly. The chattier of the two was called Andy and he offered her a lift home when his shift finished. She accepted his offer readily, just wanting to get away from this place and the situation she had got herself into.

Pat was in bed with Ivana and she was lying in his arms, her slim legs wrapped around him. She was so tiny and Pat liked that. He liked the feel of her; she was fragile in comparison to his roughness. She felt so minute and so soft, that holding her was almost like taking her. She made him feel good inside and made him want to protect her and he knew that she liked the feeling as much as he did.

But she was a brass and brasses were not meant to be loved by anyone. It was hypocritical, he knew, considering his mother's background. But he also knew she would be the first person warning him against letting his feelings get the better of him.

Ivana snuggled into his body once more and he held her tightly to him. She could feel his heart beating and smell his aftershave.

'Is that your real name?'

She laughed. 'Course not. No one is born with a name like that. It's a work name, an exotic name that makes me sound interesting. My actual name is Denise.'

He laughed then and she laughed with him.

'You are joking?'

She was still laughing, no shame at her own words, just honest humour.

'I'm not. My name is Denise Jones, a boring and unattractive name for a girl who wanted to be interesting and beautiful.' She was laughing at herself again, only this time it wasn't as convincing.

Patrick hugged her once more, tighter, and her little laugh made him feel sorry for her. She was a nice girl, a really nice girl. He sighed, she was addictive.

He got out of the bed and relit the joint they had left in the ashtray. The sweet aroma of the grass filled the room and he looked down on Ivana and saw her lying there with her hair all around her face and her milky white skin smooth and soft against the bed sheets.

'You all right?' Her voice was soft and Pat sat back on the bed and smiled down at her.

'Course I'm all right. How about you?' She didn't answer him, just smiled gently.

He knew she loved him. He knew she would hang around for years; he could marry, go to prison, anything and Ivana, as she liked to be called, would be there waiting for him. A constant in a world that was full of disappointments.

He felt sorry for her even as he wished he had met her as a civilian and not in a hostess club flashing her clout to whoever had the money. He knew that he would keep her on the side and he was ashamed that he wasn't man enough to take her as she was. But it was hard for a man when the woman they were with was well-known. Eventually, it would cause trouble. Eventually he would use it against her. That was the way the world worked. She was sensible enough to know that herself. He wouldn't have to explain himself to her, she would take whatever crumbs he threw her.

'I'd better get back to work, mate.'

He nodded then and she saw the face that haunted her dreams and had grabbed her from the first time she had laid eyes on it. He had hit her like a bolt of lightning and the feeling had not decreased as it should have, it seemed to grow bigger by the day.

He dressed himself quickly and, kissing her gently on the brow, he left her.

Ivana lay there in the hotel room that was depressing now, with its scratched dressing table and dirty carpet, and she wondered what would be the outcome of this strange relationship they had.

The one thing she did know was that, no matter what happened, she would be there for him. She was caught up in him and needed him more than she had ever needed anyone or anything before in her life. She also knew that, without a doubt, he would break her heart.

Lance saw his little sister getting out of a car and he walked out of the house to see who had brought her home. He was surprised to see a young man in a police uniform driving an old Ford.

'What the fuck is going on?'

Eileen wished she was dead but she knew she had to diffuse this situation before that luxury could be afforded to her.

'I got lost, Lance, and this man was kind enough to give me a lift home.'

Lance bent down and looked into the car, peering in the window at the man in the driver's seat.

'Where did you get lost then?'

'I went to a party in Essex and lost me mates. I saw a police car and flagged it down.'

The young man could feel her fear and it was communicating itself to him. This was a man who, he knew, instinctively, was definitely not someone to cross.

'Well, this ain't a fucking police car, or is it? Are the filth cars in Essex different to the ones everywhere else? Only I thought they were supposed to be instantly recognisable? Wasn't that the whole idea of them in the first place?'

'Excuse me, sir, but I was just finishing my shift and the young lady was obviously in a bind. I offered to drop her off rather than leave her alone at a train station.'

Lance saw the logic of what the boy was saying and, with one of his lightning changes of mood, he smiled. This was something that was so rare it was more worrying to Eileen than his usual miserable demeanour.

'Thanks. You're right, of course. She is only young.'

The young policeman could feel the terror coming off her in waves now and he was sorry he wasn't brave enough to stay around and see what the score was. He couldn't wait to get going in fact. And, starting up the engine, he waved quickly before driving off in case this man decided he was not going to be so nice about it all.

Eileen looked at Lance for a few moments and she wondered how someone who looked so much like Patrick could not be called good-looking. On Patrick the same features were blindingly good-looking, on Lance they made him look like a psychopath.

'I know you don't want to hear it, Eileen, but I worry about you. You're a baby and there are men in the world who would take advantage of your youth and your inexperience.'

For the first time ever, Eileen was grateful to him for his overbearing and protective attitude.

'Thanks, Lance. I know you're right and I know you're only trying to take care of me.'

He was surprised at her answer, she knew. Normally, she would be causing murders, accusing him of all sorts and making a drama out of his concern.

'Is Nanny Annie in?'

Lance nodded and they walked amiably back into the house together.

'Bloody hell, wonders will never cease,' Annie said in undisguised surprise as she saw them coming in together.

Eileen didn't bother to answer her. She walked through to the kitchen where her mother was making another one of her pots of tea.

'Fancy a cup, love?'

Eileen smiled and kissed her gently. 'I love you, Mum.'

Lil laughed then, a loud, knowing laugh. 'Who hurt you, darling?'

She pulled her daughter into her arms and hugged her tightly.

'Come on. Who was it and where do they live?'

'Oh, Mum…' Eileen was crying now; her mother's astute observation at what had befallen her just made it all the more poignant.

'Sssh. Stop it, darling. Don't cry. Remember you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find a prince.'

Eileen suddenly felt her mother's body tense up and she made a low groan.

'The baby is on its way. I was having a cup of tea before I go off.'

Eileen couldn't believe what she was hearing. 'You're really in labour?'

Lil laughed again, that deep-throated chuckle that was her trademark.

'I'm having a baby, Eileen. It's not that hard, love. It is going to come out no matter what. In fact, I think it is nearer than I thought. I can feel it bearing down.' Lil sat back in the chair once more and took a few deep breaths. 'Phone the doctor, love. He must be sick of this fucking house. But, first, pour me out another cuppa. Lots of sugar, darling, for energy.'

She bent double again and she knew the baby was well on its way now.

'Oh, Eileen, I forgot how much it fucking hurts, darling.' She was still laughing when the child arrived twenty minutes later.

Pat was with Mac and they walked into the Eagle together. After ordering a couple of drinks, they made their way over to the corner and Pat smiled down at the man sitting there with his pint of Guinness. Then, pulling up a chair, he sat down easily.

'It's a boy. I thought you might want to know that.'

Mac was standing behind Pat and Jambo was not sure what they expected from him so he just sat there and smiled gently as he always did.

'She OK, your mother?'

Pat nodded. He was looking at the man intently and he understood his mother's attraction to him. Jambo had a quietness about him that she must have found so refreshing after the other men in her life.

'Yeah. You know her, takes everything in her stride.'

Jambo sipped his drink. 'Not everything, boy, she feels a lot more than she lets on, you know.'

Patrick didn't answer him. He didn't know what to say. Now he was here, he felt as if he was intruding on his mother's private life. She didn't have much of her own, much that wasn't about the kids or the family. Or the problems she had to deal with, and this man was her little bit of downtime, her escape from everything.

Pat had asked around about Jambo and knew his rep. Even though he wasn't the man he would have chosen for her, he hadn't heard anything detrimental about him.

'How big is the baby? She named it yet?' Jambo was surprised to find that he was genuinely interested.

'Eight pound and no name as yet.'

Mackie was watching them closely and he decided they needed another drink. When he brought them back to the table he was not surprised to see the men chatting away together. He knew Jambo and he was all right. He liked his own company and women found him attractive; he was handsome in a masculine way. His skin was well-toned, not too dark, and he had the easy-going way that womanisers develop at an early age. But one thing in his favour was that he never promised anything he couldn't deliver.

Similar thoughts were going through Patrick's mind as he chatted with the man who had fathered the latest addition to his family. Jambo smiled at him and Patrick saw Lil's attraction to him. When he smiled, he looked like he had the world in his pocket.

'A boy, eh? But she's good, yeah? She is all right really, Lil?' He was genuinely concerned, both for Lil and the baby.

'She's fine. Why don't you come and see them? We can run you to the hospital. They took them in, just to be on the safe side, you know. She had it in the kitchen and gave my little sister a fright, I can tell you.'

It wasn't a threat. Jambo knew that if he didn't want to go, no one was going to force him. But suddenly he wanted to go. He wanted to see this son of his. In fact, he felt proud and excited about him. If he was anything like this young man, he was going to be worth knowing. He liked Pat, he remembered him as a child and knew his father much better than any of them realised. It was how he had become friends with Lil in the first place.

'Eustace, why you not getting another drink, boy?'

Mac grinned. No one called him Eustace, most people didn't even realise it was his name.

'Wet the baby's head, yeah?'

Pat walked back to the bar again and wondered what it would be like to have a new brother at his age.

Lance was holding the baby and Lil watched him with a tired resignation. He seemed to be overwhelmed with the night's events. But then men always were, they were there at the conception and rarely there for the birth. Women, after the first baby, just got on with it. The miracle of life was actually just a fucking painful few hours when you came right down to it. The baby was the end result and that was all women were interested in.

For the first time in years, she was with Lance and they were alone and she didn't have the heart to push him away, or the inclination. She was shattered.

Pat was over the moon. He was a good kid, they were all good kids. As she thought that, she glanced up at Lance and she still didn't feel she could include him in that statement.

'Give me the baby, will you?'

Lance smiled as he placed the bundle into her arms.

'He's a real bruiser, Mum. A real brahma.'

Lil nodded. She wished her mother would come back from the canteen so she didn't have to make conversation with this huge man, a man who made her feel uneasy and inadequate.

The baby was looking up at her and she smiled with the pleasure of looking at him. He was handsome, and not just Mum handsome; she knew he would break some hearts before he was much older.

He started to cry, the high-pitched mewling of a new baby, the sound that she would hear through a hurricane and know it was her child. The crying caused the hormones to rampage through her tired body. She kissed him gently, smelling his newness and breathing in his very essence and enjoying his first few hours outside the womb. Already she felt like he had been there always, she felt as if she had never been without him and wondered how she could ever have coped without him. He was her baby, her last child, her redeemer.

Lance watched them together and the jealousy rose up inside him like a tidal wave. His mother had never looked at him like that. He knew she had never wanted him like she had wanted the others, that was clear to him. Watching her with the boy he felt the sheer loneliness of his life wash over him.

'I'd better get back to Kathleen. At least this has cheered her up a bit.'

Lil nodded again. She felt all she ever did with Lance was make head movements or gestures, anything rather than talk to him for any length of time.

Kathleen had watched the birth with all the others and she had burst into tears; she was really affected by the power of it all. The little ones had been beside themselves with excitement. Even Shamus couldn't hide his pride at his new brother, though it wasn't cool to admit it. And she was so proud of them all, especially Eileen, bless her, who had more or less delivered her new brother.

The baby was mewling once more and, as Lil looked down at him, she knew the name she wanted. Looking at Lance, she said happily, 'Shawn, his name is Shawn.'

As she said that she saw Jambo walking towards her and she placed the boy into his arms without a word being spoken.

Patrick and Mackie were both laughing and cooing over the baby, and Lil felt happier than she had in years.

'It's Shawn. I've named him Shawn.'

Jambo looked down at his son and felt a rush of love and protection. This boy was his flesh and blood.

Sitting on the bed beside Lil, he said happily, 'You did good, Lil. You did really good.'