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Chapter Twenty-Eight

'Are you all right, Mum?'

Eileen's voice was soft and full of concern. Lil was off-colour; she had been lying on the sofa for a couple of days and it wasn't like her at all.

'No. I feel tired again, I just feel really tired. I don't feel ill as such.'

'Go to the doctor, for fuck's sake, Lil.' Annie's voice was loud as she shouted through from the kitchen.

'I'll go tomorrow. You look nice, love.'

Eileen looked stunning and, as she brushed her long hair, Lil was reminded of just how lovely the twins were. Even poor old Kathleen; she didn't wear make-up or dress herself in fashionable clothes but she was still a beauty.

As Lil moved her arm to pick up her cigarettes, she felt a pain under her arm. It was sharp and made her catch her breath.

'Ring Pat and tell him I am still out for the count, would you, darling?'

Colleen bounded into the room and said gaily, 'I'll do it. Can I go to the Wimpy with Lance?'

'Course you can, love. Take Shawn if you like.'

Hearing his name, Shawn opened his eyes and yawning, he smiled up at the women in his life.

'Get him dressed for me, would you?'

Colleen picked the little boy up and walked from the room happily.

Pat came in then and, smiling at everyone, he said nonchalantly, 'You're going to see a bloke in Harley Street tomorrow, Mum. Might as well get you a full MOT, eh?'

'Don't be so fucking silly. I'm just tired, that's all.'

Pat was kneeling down and giving little Shawn a packet of Jelly Tots as he said, in a firm voice that brooked no arguments, 'You're going and that's that.'

Lil lay back on the sofa once more, feeling worse than ever.

'What is it with you, Lance? What the fuck goes through your head?'

The two men were laughing as they walked up the driveway of a large house in Chigwell. The gates had been jemmied open by Lance with the aid of a set of bolt cutters. The drive was gravelled and their footsteps alerted the owner to their presence. He opened the front door with a baseball bat in one hand and a twelve-inch carving knife in the other.

'Oooh, that's not very friendly, is it?'

The man was grinning but the men knew he was frightened, the sweat rolling down his face told them that, plus the trembling of the hand that held the knife.

'Fuck off. You ain't coming in here.'

'But that's just where you're wrong. We are coming in and we are removing certain objects; two of those said objects will be your bollocks if you don't get out of the way.'

Lance pulled out a shotgun from underneath his raincoat; it was sawn-off and he cocked it over his knee. Then, holding it up to his chin, he sited it on the man's crotch.

'I think a sawn-off beats a knife any day of the week, don't you, Donny?'

Donny Barker nodded as if thinking the question over seriously, and he eventually answered in a game-show-host voice, 'Without a doubt. Now, if you don't mind, we have chosen to forfeit the prizes and take the money.'

The man was shaking his head. He was bald with small dark eyes and overlarge lips, and was not an attractive man at all. His wife, however, was a real looker, as he was wont to tell anyone who would listen. Fortunately, his children looked like her side of the family. It was these children and that wife he was trying to protect.

'I ain't got the fucking money, how many times? I'll get it as soon as I can.'

Lance advanced on him, still aiming the gun, and he walked the man back through his large entrance hall and into his kitchen.

It was a beautiful property and Lance and Donny were both pricing everything in their heads as they made their way to the kitchen with him.

'Put the weapons on the worktop, please, and step back towards the table.'

The man did as he was asked, and Donny picked them up and studied them as if they were the most interesting things he had ever seen in his life.

'This knife is really sharp. You could do someone a real damage with this.'

As he spoke, Donny smiled at Lance and he nodded his agreement.

'You could cut someone's eyes out or slice off a few fingers, anything really.'

The man was white now and his eyes were on overdrive with nervous blinking. It was a reaction that Lance had seen many times over the years. He knew the man was thinking about how to get out of this, play for time, and then working out how to get the money required and get out of this once and for all. Lance also knew that he kept a small fortune in a safe, somewhere in this sprawling mansion that was hocked up to the hilt. The cars, everything in the place was rented or bought on the knock. He was like a lot of them he dealt with, all top show. Living far beyond their means and what for? That was the thing Lance had never understood. So a group of people he drank with knew he had a nice car and a nice drum. It was a fucking con, all a con. Now he had borrowed his last fucking wedge and they were not about to give him any kind of a pass.

'You owe me the money now, us. We bought the debt, see, and we are like the Mounties, we always get our man.'

'Look, I can get you the money all right…'

Lance grinned. 'Can you get it before your wife turns up with the kids? Your Bianca's ballet lesson should be over by now and it would be a shame if they were to walk into all this, eh?'

Donny nodded again. His ugly face was screwed up in mock concern.

'Poor little mares, coming in to all this. Good at ballet, is she?'

He ran a well-manicured nail down the knife blade. 'Shame if she lost a toe or two, wouldn't it? I mean, toes are what help you balance, ain't they?'

He looked at the man then and saw his fear, his terror.

'You wouldn't. Not a kid, you can't hurt kids.'

Lance answered him then. 'I can. I'll fucking hurt anyone who owes me money. I take it personally, like an insult or a fucking piss take. Now, where is your safe? Open it and pay us and we'll go. If you don't, I will slice up everyone in the house, even the new baby you're so proud of.'

As he spoke, they all heard the front door opening and a loud voice saying, 'Oi, have you seen the gates? They're wide open. You told me to keep them closed.'

The wife walked into the kitchen and saw what was going on. She turned quickly, but not quickly enough. She was holding her baby boy, and her older daughter, who had just turned twelve, was still in the hallway taking off her coat and boots. She looked up at the noise and she started crying when she saw the way her mother was flinching in fear, a man pulling her roughly back into the kitchen. The woman hunched over her baby. After seeing the gun she instinctively tried to shield the child from any shot that might be fired.

'Please, I don't want any trouble, we don't know anything, let us go…' Her voice was drenched with tears and she was stuttering with fright.

Her daughter ran to her, crying noisily, and that set the baby off. The noise was loud and Lance shouted above it. 'Give me her, now.'

Donny was as shocked as the parents of the child.

'I said, give me that kid, now.'

'Leave it out, Lance, this don't warrant anything of that magnitude.'

Lance stormed over to the little crowd and dragged the girl from her mother's arms.

The woman was now hysterical and Lance shouted at her. 'Shut the fuck up or I'll shoot the lot of you, just for the peace and fucking quiet.' He held the sobbing child in front of him and he pointed the gun at her head.

The child was quiet suddenly, as if she knew exactly how serious the situation was. The tears were rolling down her cheeks and yet not a sound emerged from her.

'All right, for fuck's sakes, let her go. You fucking bastards. Let her go and I'll give you what you want.'

Lance pushed the little girl away and she stumbled, her fear so acute she couldn't walk properly. Lance shouted at the sobbing woman, who was attempting to help her daughter up from the floor and hold on to her baby at the same time.

'Get out and shut the fucking door. Remember we can see you, so don't get clever. All right?'

The woman nodded and Donny could see she was on the verge of nervous collapse. The girl was almost in a trance and he knew fear could do that. He knew that the terror she had experienced would be there all her life.

'Well, fuck off then!'

She walked out of the kitchen towards their new conservatory, which was actually the reason her husband had wanked all his money away. As she passed him, she said angrily, 'My mother was right about you. She said you'd end up in jail or being topped and now you've brought all this into my home.'

She was pushed through the glass doors into the conservatory, and then Lance said, 'I can always top her for you, as a sort of bonus for paying up. She sounds like a right fucking nag and those kids and that racket all day and night. I don't discriminate, I'll fucking shoot anyone.' Lance waited for the man to tell them what they wanted to know.

Instead, he shook his head in exaggerated sorrow and said with a voice filled with regret, 'Please, guys, give me a week. I just need a week, that's all. Then I'll have the money for you, I swear on my mother's eyesight.'

Lance was angry now. That this man would still gamble his kids' lives was to him as unbelievable as it was disgusting.

'You cunt. You'd still fucking try and keep from paying a debt even though we threatened your kids? You know me and you know what I am capable of. You fucking low-down, filthy piece of shit.'

'Come on, Lance. You know I'm good for it, especially if you're collecting it.'

'You bought tickets off Dodger Marks to go to Spain this Thursday. I own him, like I fucking own you now. I know everything about the people who owe me money. I put the word out and I gather information, so I know what I can ask for and what I can't before I even set foot near the mark in question. You think I believe that you were going to fucking pay me from fucking Benidorm? I would have turned up there, you fucking twat; there ain't nowhere you could go to escape me once I decide I want you.'

Lance was shaking his head and laughing at the incongruity of this person's absolute stupidity.

'This is it now. You're a fucking enemy for life. If I see you around, I'll spank you and you'll regret cunting me off for the rest of your fucking days.'

He pointed the gun at the man's feet and let off a shot. The noise in the kitchen was deafening and the blood and bone from the man's feet was everywhere. The man was staring down at the carnage of what had once been expensive shoes and was unable to believe what had just happened; the pain had not kicked in yet. It took a few minutes for that to happen. The shock of the event needed to wear off first before the brain realised what had occurred and then reacted appropriately.

Lance was like a maniac now. He was pointing the gun at the conservatory door, screaming with anger and hate.

'Go and get that baby, get that little girl. I'll fucking maim them and you'll remember your fucking disregard for their welfare all your life. I'll teach you a lesson for life. I'll fucking maim them so bad, you'll wish I'd killed them. And you, you'll wish I killed you and all.'

Donny was in as much shock as the man they were shaking down. Lance was gone, completely gone. He had lost it, his eyes were glazed, his face was red with anger and he was spraying spittle everywhere as he spoke. He was completely and utterly off the game.

'You fucking heard me, Donny! Get the fucking kids in here again. I want to teach this cunt a lesson, teach him that you take care of your family and you don't offer them up.'

The man was listening and, like Donny, he was in no doubt that Lance was capable of doing what he said, just to teach him a lesson, to prove a point.

He dropped on to his knees then. 'Please, no. Please, Lance. I'll take you to the safe and give you everything; money, jewellery, whatever you want. But please, please stop this now.'

Lance stared down at the man for long moments, and both him and Donny could see him physically trying to get his anger under control.

'Come on, Lance, let's get the money and split.'

Donny's voice seemed to penetrate his brain but it was at least five minutes before he answered him. He was battling it out with himself and though both men had heard of his vicious temper, none had seen it at close quarters before. It was a definite learning curve for all concerned.

'All right.'

He looked at the man on the floor. 'Fucking get a move on, show me what I need.'

The man had to drag himself from the kitchen; his feet and shins were like stumps of bloody meat and the blood was everywhere. He had to drag himself across the hallway and up the stairs to the galleried landing and Lance followed him while Donny watched the rest of the little family. By the time they entered the master bedroom, he had lost so much blood he was on the verge of passing out.

'The safe's behind that picture. The combination is 999999.'

Lance grinned at the irony of it.

'The emergency services number and you'll be needing them. I reckon you'll need more than a corn plaster on those feet of yours.'

Lance opened the safe quickly and, taking a carrier bag from his pocket, he emptied it of everything. It was more than the man owed but that was tough shit now.

He had done the one thing guaranteed to make Lance lose his temper for real.

He had tried to mug him off and he had tried it while his kids were in the vicinity.

He looked down at the man with hate and he said quietly, 'You can either lose a limb now or I'll take one of your kids out.'

The man was almost delirious with loss of blood and fear and Lance kicked him savagely in the face to try to bring him round. But all he managed to do was knock him unconscious and he was angry about it because he would have liked to know the answer to that question.

'Mum's been to the hospital for tests, Lance, have you heard?'

Lance nodded. Patrick sat opposite him and waited until Annie came into her little front room with the tea tray before continuing.

'Here you are, lads. Want a biscuit? I've got some Bourbons in the cupboard I keep for me guests.'

Pat shook his head.

'Sit down, Nan, I need to talk to you both.'

Annie sat down, the serious tone of his voice told her all she needed to know. 'Is it cancer?' Her voice was low, frightened and full of guilt.

Pat nodded sadly. 'She goes in tomorrow. They are going to take her breast off and they think she's got a good chance if they do that.'

He was not comfortable talking about women's things and he was still in shock that his mother, the strongest person he had known, was ill. Seriously ill, and her still relatively young, with young children. It was wrong, all wrong. Like she hadn't had enough to deal with in her life.

Lance sipped his tea, blowing on it noisily first. 'She'll need help. Me and Nan will take Kathleen in here with us and that'll make a difference to the household. The others won't have to watch her then, will they?'

Patrick was surprised at this turn of events but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Lance seemed to understand his hesitation because he said loudly, 'She worries about her and so she should. She's not the full ten bob, as we all know. But she also knows that I'll watch over her and whatever she thinks of me, she knows I have a special rapport with Kathleen and always have. Remember when we were kids and you would always watch Eileen and I always watched Kathleen. Mum will rest easier knowing the girls ain't got to watch over her and all. Little Shawn will be more than enough for them.'

Annie nodded her agreement. 'He's got a point, Pat. She worries about her more than the others.'

Pat sipped his tea without answering her. He knew his granny and he knew that if Annie had Kathleen, it would take the onus off her having to look after the others. She would look good to everyone and she would come out of it all with Brownie points to spare, even though the bulk of the caring would be put on to himself and the girls.

Pat knew where Lance got his more suspect personality traits from. He loathed Annie at times, she was always after the main chance. But he didn't say that. He was trying to sort this out as best he could. If he didn't sort this out, he knew that no one else would. He also realised that Annie had not asked any details about the mastectomy or how her daughter was feeling. Or even what the visiting hours were in the hospital. She was seeing how this would play out for her in the future; she would be the centre of attention with her cronies and have something to talk about. She was a user and she always would be.

But he didn't say a word to either of them and instead drank his tea as quickly as possible and excused himself from their company.

Both of them made him feel dirty and he hated being around them, especially when they were together. Annie Diamond had a lot to answer for, and his brother was just one of the things she had on her conscience.

'Have you seen Colleen?' There was something in Christy's voice that was so urgent it made all the others look at him.

'No, we thought she was with you.'

'I ain't seen her all day. No one has seen her.'

Eileen sighed heavily and looked at Lance who was helping her to bring a bed downstairs for their mother.

He rolled his eyes at her but she didn't bother to answer her little brother, they had too much going on at the moment. Their mum was getting back from hospital later that afternoon and they thought it would be better if she was in the front room so she could recuperate with the kids around her and feel a part of the household.

It was six weeks since she had had the operation to remove her breast and a week since she had finished the radiotherapy. She looked ill and she was a shadow of her former self but she was a fighter, and that alone, was enough to make her children believe she would get better. She just needed to rest now and get back on her feet. That was what they told themselves anyway. The thought of losing her was the biggest fear of all their lives. Since her illness had been diagnosed, they had been aware of just how much they depended on her.

'Well, I can't find her.'

'Colleen is probably round her mate's, stop worrying.'

Christy sat down on the sofa and sighed heavily, making Eileen laugh. He was such a drama king when the fancy took him.

'She'll turn up, she always does. Have you been to the library? She was saying about going there this morning.'

'Her mates said she wasn't at school today.'

Lance stopped what he was doing and turned to his little brother.

'What do you mean? Didn't you see her?'

Christy shook his head and said in exasperation, 'That is what I am trying to tell you. I assumed she was with her mates. But they ain't seen her, no one has.'

Eileen caught the inflection in his voice then and saw he was really worried about her. They were so close and she knew he wouldn't worry without cause.

'Didn't you see her at all today?'

He shook his head once more and his face showed them that he was fed up with repeating himself. 'She don't walk to school with me any more, she hasn't for ages, she meets up with her mates and I meet up with mine. I don't always see her in school either. We're in different years, remember. But we always see each other on the way home; we meet up and walk the last part together and we talk about everything, you know.'

He meant their mother's illness, but he didn't want to say that. Eileen understood his reticence, they all felt like that about it. Sometimes she was frightened to talk about it too much, it made it all the more real. Reminded them of what could happen and no one could contemplate her dying. Her not being there any more.

'Have you tried all her mates?'

He nodded.

'Are you sure? There's no one she might have gone out with, played the hop with?'

He shook his head and then he stood up.

'I'm going out to have another look about but she never played the hop, and also, she knew Mum was coming home today. She was looking forward to it, so she wouldn't go anywhere, would she? Especially without telling someone? Use your loafs.'

He was annoyed that no one could see that this wasn't normal behaviour for his sister, she was always reliable. He was the one who hopped the wag and who got in trouble. Not Colleen, she was a good girl, and he resented them trying to say different.

'Stay there, Christy.' Eileen walked out to the hallway and picked up the phone. 'I'm ringing Pat, see what he says.'

Lance looked at his little brother and, sitting down beside him, he said gently, 'You sure you don't know where she might have gone? Is there anyone you might have forgotten about?'

Christy didn't bother answering his older brother, he just shook his head despondently and sighed once more.

The policeman was looking at Patrick Brodie with interest and it wasn't because he was reporting a missing person. He had heard about the family and this was the first time he had ever seen one of them close up. They were a legend and this young PC felt as if he was in the presence of royalty. This encounter would be talked about for a long time to come.

'Are you a bit fucking dense? Go and get DI Broomfield, now!' The young man didn't answer; the way Patrick Brodie was looking at him was scaring him and he knew that he should have taken more notice of what he was saying.

'Are you deaf as well as fucking stupid? Answer me!' Patrick was yelling at him now. The anger was spilling out and he couldn't contain it, not when this prick was not interested in what he was trying to tell him.

The young man was already hyperventilating and, stepping away from the glass window that was supposed to protect him from the more violent members of the general public he said, with as much bravado as he could manage, 'I will get a detective down here, sir.'

Pat stood in the reception of the police station and held on to his temper as best he could. All around him were posters about burglars and stupid fucking photos of no one worth a wank and he had been expected to talk to a kid who he wouldn't trust to go down the shops for him, let alone find a missing person. The place had the filth smell about it, cigarette smoke and lies. He hated them, hated what they stood for and what they meant to other people. He saw a different side to the police than most people and it certainly didn't endear them to him.

It was nearly midnight and Colleen was still nowhere to be seen. He was worried now, they all were. She wasn't the type of girl to go anywhere without telling someone first. Colleen was still a kid in many respects; she had never even had a sleepover at a friend's.

A familiar voice called out to him and he saw that the door leading into the station itself was open and Teddy Broomfield, an old mucker of his dad's, was waving him through.

'Come on, son. Let's have a cup of tea and see what we can do, eh?'

Pat walked through the door, feeling better now that he was actually doing something constructive. He had everyone he knew out searching for her and no one had seen her or heard from her. She was missing. There was no way she would have missed her mum coming home from hospital. He explained all that to Teddy, who agreed with him and who was obviously taking it far more seriously than the little shitbag he had spoken to earlier.

For some reason this just worried him more. It was as if now that he had reported her gone, it meant she really was missing and that she really did need to be found. That she couldn't get herself home, not without help. He was suddenly aware of how serious the whole fucking situation really was.

Lil knew within twenty-four hours that her daughter was never coming home. She didn't know how she knew that and she didn't say it to anyone else, she didn't voice her thoughts. But she knew. She knew that she would never hear Colleen's laugh again or chat to her, never hear her singing or practising the recorder.

She just knew she was gone for good.

She knew that if she saw her again it would be to identify her body; there was no way that the girl had run off, left home as the police seemed so convinced of.

Lil had watched Eileen blame herself and her sons blame themselves and had seen neighbours and friends unable to find any more words of hope or comfort.

She cuddled her little boy and she lay on the bed and wondered at a God who could send this to her on top of everything else she had had to contend with over the years. She had refused to see her priest and she was never going to go back for Communion ever again.

Life goes on. That was a saying she had used so many times herself over the years. But this time she knew it was a load of old crap; her life didn't go on. Not really. She lived from day to day and she hid her heartbreak, her anger and her terror at what might have befallen her lovely daughter from everyone.

But in the night she lived through every nightmare a mother could imagine. Every terrible thing she had ever read in the newspapers or seen on a TV programme was suddenly vivid and real to her, was feasible. Only she wasn't asleep when she saw these things, she was wide awake.

She wondered whether her baby girl was frightened, in pain, had been raped? Had she called for her mummy at any point? Had she needed her and she had not been there to answer that call?

There was nothing for them to hold on to, that was the worst of it. She seemed to have disappeared into thin air. No one knew where she could have gone or where she could be now. It was as if she had never existed, but they all knew she had. Her clothes were still in her wardrobe and her shoes were still in the cupboard under the stairs. Everything tangible, everything that proved she had ever lived here, in this house, was still in evidence. It was as if she had popped out and would soon be returning as usual. And they all felt that in different ways, she knew that; she watched them as they tried to understand what had happened.

None of them would ever be the same again and that was the thing Lil felt the most. The destruction of her family was so gradual, so complete and she saw it happening and she knew there was nothing she could do to stop it. She had started off hoping for a miracle, hoping Colleen would walk in the door and tell them it was a mistake. But eventually all she hoped for was a body, something to bury. Something to end the speculation that had been a part of her nights for so many years.

At least that way, if they could bury something, they might finally be able to mourn her, might finally find out exactly what had happened to her, and so understand why she had gone. Every Christmas, every birthday, was a reminder of what was missing, what was gone from them. It was the waiting that was the hardest, the waiting for news that could only break their hearts all over again.