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Chapter Twenty-Nine

'You'll be forty in a few weeks.'

Pat laughed. He was still good-looking but he had the same ruggedness that his father had possessed. Lil had to admit that even though he was her son, he was a good-looking fucker, and he knew it and all.

'Well, Mother, I ain't having a party. We all know what happened at the last one.'

Lil didn't laugh at that. All these years later it was still raw; she was still not over it. Patrick saw that then and went to her and, as he cuddled her, he said sadly, 'I'm sorry, Mum. That was a bad joke.'

She shrugged as always, as if she didn't really care but she did, he knew she did.

'It was a long time ago. It's in the past.'

She carried on tallying up the set of books in front of her and Pat watched her for a while. She was a game old bird, no doubt about that, and he loved her. She was a mare but he loved her.

She was a legend in Soho and she made a point of living up to her reputation. He had gone on to bigger and better things over the years but his old mum, Old Lil Brodie, had taken the clubs and made them into goldmines.

She looked up at him over her expensive designer glasses and he laughed again. 'You look like a glamorous granny.'

'Oh, fuck off and pour me a brandy, will you?'

He poured them both a drink and Lil sat back in the heavily upholstered chair and, yawning, she said with feeling, 'Have you talked to Lance yet?'

Pat had been dreading this but he knew he had to tell her. If he didn't she would only find out on her own. That was, of course, if she didn't know already and was waiting to see if he told her the truth. It wouldn't be the first time she had played that one on him.

He shook his head and she saw the thickness of his dark hair and how much grey was now peppering it. It suited him and she wondered at men; they seemed to age much better than women. The things that pointed out their advancing years were the same things that seemed to make them handsomer. It was one of nature's nastier tricks.

'I'm waiting for him to come in tonight; I left a message on his mobile.'

She knocked her drink back in one movement and held the glass out for more.

'Let me do it?'

Pat was biting his lip. He wanted to tell her to keep out of it but he knew he couldn't. You couldn't tell Lil Brodie anything she didn't want to hear. 'Leave it with me, Mum. I've got it all under control.'

Lil took the glass off him then and, sipping the brandy this time, she sat back once more and looked at him expectantly.

He sat opposite her. She was still an attractive woman and she looked after herself well. He knew she had indulged herself with a bit of nip and tuck. Nothing drastic, just the bags under her eyes and a bit of botox, to freshen her up, as she put it.

She dressed well, tailored suits and designer handbags. And she liked scarves; expensive scarves that she draped around herself artistically. She kept her hair blond but cut short; an easy-to-manage style that suited her elfin features. He knew she still had good legs; he had seen younger men appreciate them and he knew she liked to show them off in her tailored skirts. For a woman who had given birth to eight children, she looked good.

She was thin though. After Colleen's disappearance she had never gained the weight back. She ate like a bird and he knew she didn't sleep enough. But then neither did he.

'Well, I want to be here when you talk to him.'

Pat nodded his agreement. He knew she was not going to take 'no' for an answer and he knew from years of experience that it was better to let her do what she wanted.

'But keep out of it, all right?'

She smiled. 'Of course. What do you take me for?'

She saw his face as he raised his eyebrows and she said loudly, 'Yeah, I know, a nosey old bag.'

They were both laughing now and she yawned, wondering where the night's events would take them.

'Billy Boot is a good bloke and he done a lump, Pat. If he said something I would be inclined to believe him.'

'Even over Lance?' He said it quietly, already knowing the answer she would give, but having to say it anyway.

'Especially over Lance.'

She grinned and he saw the usual look on her face whenever Lance was mentioned or near her. It said that she only tolerated him and it was the truth, because she barely tolerated him at that.

She knew the conversation was over now and she relaxed back into her seat once more and surveyed her domain with relish. She loved the clubs, always had. Pat had taken back nearly everything that had been lost with his father's murder and she was happy to see them thriving and profitable. It seemed a fitting tribute to the man she had loved and lost all those years ago.

She also wanted to see what Lance had to say about Billy Boot's little bit of chatter and, as it concerned the clubs and some of the other business dealings they had, she was not only interested, she was also intrigued.

Eileen was locked in her bathroom; the new bathroom that had cost a small fortune and which had not given her any satisfaction at all. In fact, as she stood there, her hands gripping the sides of the basin and tears not far from her eyes, she wondered what the hell she had wanted it for in the first place.

'Eileen, will you open the fucking door!'

Her husband's voice was loud and threatening and she wished he would drop dead of a heart attack or crash his fucking car.

'Fuck off!'

'Oh, fuck you. I ain't poncing around any more.'

She heard him walking away. He was such a noisy person; he clumped, he didn't walk anywhere, he clumped. He just stamped through life as if he had every right to be there, to interfere and bully everyone. She loathed him and she wondered at times how the fuck she had ever ended up married to him.

But she knew the answer to that; she just didn't like admitting it to herself. She heard the sound of his car starting up and the crunch as it left the drive and then, and only then, did she unlock the bedroom door and go downstairs.

She was desperate for a drink and she walked straight into the kitchen, dragging a stool from the breakfast bar over to the cupboard above the door that led into the utility room and she climbed up and opened it wide. It was empty. Not empty of everything, the cupboard actually housed the electrics for their swimming pool, but the bottle of vodka she had put there earlier in the day was gone.

Slamming the door shut she jumped down from the stool and shouted, 'You fucking bastard! You fucking rotten shitbag!'

The shouting made her feel better, calmer inside herself. Then, picking up her car keys she left the house. Driving to the off-licence a few minutes later, she knew she was over the limit, she was driving too slow for a start and she realised she was already well on the way to complete oblivion.

She abandoned the Mercedes 220 outside the off-licence and then, when she had purchased what she wanted, she walked back to her house happily. Dropping her car keys down a drain, she was laughing at what her husband would say about that when it dawned on her that the keys to the house were on the keyring as well. She broke into the house by smashing one of the windows in the back door. It wasn't the first time she had done it and she left the glass on the floor and the door wide open. Let him really have something to moan about, he was only happy when he had something to complain about. He was a miserable cunt and she was sick to death of him and his lectures and his fucking constant drone. It was like living with the prophet of doom. Pouring herself a large glass of whisky, she lit herself a cigarette and then cut herself a line of prime cocaine. Fuck it all, she decided. She was going to have a party.

'All right, Dad?'

Shawn was all smiles as Jambo walked across the pub to him.

'Yeah, son, you?'

Jambo had aged well; in fact, he didn't look much different now to twenty years previously. Pat put it down to him never really having a job or any kind of worries and Jambo secretly agreed with him.

Pat was good to him though, and he knew that after Colleen's disappearance and Lil's illness, the fact that he had been a constant presence had brought the boy round to his way of thinking. They got on well and they had a certain rapport that was unique and helped them to bond.

Poor Lil had never really got over Colleen, even Pat's murder had not taken so much out of her. He supposed it was because women, real women, once they birthed a child, could never imagine life without it. He didn't include Lance in that equation, he could understand her reservations about him. He felt the same way. Lance was not someone you liked, let alone loved. The boy made sure of that himself.

Now this boy, his boy, his Shawn, he was a credit to her. Lil had done a wonderful job with him. They all had. He was so loved and he was so happy all the time that he was a joy to be around.

'You get me a bit of puff?'

Shawn nodded. He had the same dreadlocks and the same smile as his father.

'Course I have. Don't I always?' He passed the grass over, green and fragrant, in an HSBC coin bag, with another big smile.

'It's prime. I got it for meself.'

Jambo took it from him and slipped it into his coat pocket, then he sat back in his chair and waited for the boy to go and get the Guinness that was his staple diet these days.

Shawn got up and laughed once more.

'Look out for Christy, we've got to pick some stuff up before midnight.'

Jambo nodded.

The two boys were exceptionally close and he was glad. He liked Christy, he was a good man. He had none of his father in him but a lot of his mother, thank God. He even had her temper and that had got him into trouble a few times over the years. But he was a grafter, a worker, like they all were.

Now the two of them were the Kings of the Puff and they were both expert at ferreting out the best grass going. A very handy occurrence for him, of course, as he had it on tap whenever he wanted it. He sipped his Guinness a few minutes later and watched Shawn as he looked over all the females in the bar. Shawn had a reputation as a ladies' man; they seemed to fall at his feet on a regular basis. He had the chat and the easiness that attracted a certain kind of women. He was out for a good time and a good time was all he was after. He was his father's son all right, there was no doubt about that.

Lance was still angry. He was always angry and Annie was frightened of him when he was angry like he was now. He shouted, he raged and he took it out on her. Nothing she did was good enough and nothing she said could appease him in any way. As the years had gone on she had actually become nervous of him, nervous of his moods.

'Do you hear me?' He was leaning over her as she sat in the chair by the TV She wanted to watch her programme, she always watched her programme, and if she missed it she was upset. But she knew she was not going to have any peace until he was spent.

'Of course I hear you, Lance, the whole fucking street can hear you!' The words seemed to do the trick. He stood up then and she saw how big he was. Over the years he had seemed to grow, taller and wider. He was overweight but it just made him look more intimidating. He didn't look happy fat, like most people with his build. He looked dangerous and she knew that he was.

She also knew that he tried to keep his indoor personality on a leash; he didn't want anyone to know how he treated her when they were alone. He bullied her, screamed at her and picked fault with everything she did for him. As she had got older and less agile, he saw her weakness as nothing more than an excuse not to do any work. He took it as a personal affront that she couldn't keep up with his demands on her time any more.

The only person he was even remotely civil to these days was Kathleen and she was as mad as a fucking brush. Not that she would ever say that out loud of course. At least she left the house these days. She only walked to her mother's, admittedly, but that in itself was a big step for someone who had hardly left her bedroom for years. She took a cocktail of drugs that seemed to make her almost human and Annie was grateful for that much at least.

'Fucking summoning me, leaving me a message. Not, can you come in, Lance, but, get to the club by nine. Like I ain't got nothing better to fucking do! Like I have fuck all else in my life but pander to him!'

Annie didn't say anything. She wasn't meant to, she knew that much from years of experience. He just wanted someone to vent his anger on and that someone, unfortunately, was usually her. She tried to sneak a look at her programme and she saw Gil Grissom from CSI talking away to the blonde woman she hated. But the sound was down and she couldn't make out a bloody word. But she didn't say anything or try to turn the sound up, Lance was aggravated enough as it was.

'All right, Lil?'

Ivana came into the office with a mug of coffee and, placing it on the desk, sat down and slipped off her high heels. As she twiddled her toes, she groaned with pleasure.

'I'm getting too old for these shoes and too old for all that standing around.'

Lil laughed. 'You'll still be going in twenty-five years like me.'

'Oh, don't say that, Lil. I'm depressed enough as it is!'

They laughed together once more. It amazed Lil that there had been a time when she had really not liked this girl because now she loved her. Pat had kept her on a string for so many years and she had sat it out. Lil had eventually admired her and then found she liked her. Once she had gone away for a few weeks and Lil had then found that she actually missed her. Life was strange, it threw you a curve when you least expected it.

'Who's got the baby?'

The baby was twelve years old but she was still referred to as the baby by everyone.

'She's staying at Isabel's.'

Lil relaxed then; Isabel was one of the hostesses who had married out of the job but still kept in contact with Ivana; they were close friends. Isabel was happy to babysit; she had three of her own anyway so young Georgia was actually a help. She loved bathing the kids, playing with them and reading them stories. She was so like Colleen it was frightening at times. Everyone had noticed it but no one had ever had the guts to mention it. But she was watched over by them all, and watched closely.

'Eileen was on the phone earlier. I couldn't make head nor tail out of what she was saying. But she was crying.'

Lil shrugged, the trademark shrug that had seen her through all the trials and tribulations of her life, and said sadly, 'It's the anniversary soon, Colleen, and then we've got poor Pat's birthday…'

Ivana nodded. 'I know.'

Ivana was still beautiful and looked much younger than she actually was. Her extreme thinness had turned to a pleasant plumpness after the baby had been born and she was still tiny, but not so gaunt looking. Pat was still with her and he was still out and about when the fancy took him. Lil was sorry about that but she kept out of it. Ivana seemed able to cope with it, so who was she to butt her nose in where it wasn't wanted? It grieved her though. She could see the sadness behind Ivana's eyes at times, and she wished she could do something to alleviate it.

'Forty, eh? How does it feel to have a forty-year-old son?'

Lil grinned then, her face screwed up in mock horror.

'Well, I've had fucking better days!'

Ivana was laughing with her when Pat walked into the office with Lance. The atmosphere was automatically charged, it was always the same when Lance was there. He seemed to bring upset with him wherever he went.

The air in the room was almost electric and Lil and Pat looked at each other warily as Ivana made herself scarce. Lance had never once spoken to her directly and even though he had not said one word to her, she was more than aware of his opinion of her.

Paulie Brick walked into the house and looked around him warily. Eileen was capable of launching herself at him from a hiding place. She was a handful when she was drunk and, unfortunately, that was most of the time.

He regretted shouting at her earlier but she made him so angry at times that he could often strangle her without a second's thought. He walked through to the state-of-the-art kitchen and saw the glass everywhere. And on the granite work surface he noticed the remains of her cocaine and the screw top from the whisky bottle.

He sighed. He had noticed the car was gone but guessed she was in the house somewhere; she never seemed to stay out for any length of time. She preferred to stay home and get wasted. He wondered if the car was still in one piece and hoped that if she had crashed it, she wasn't hurt again. Last time she had been so out of it she had not even noticed a broken wrist.

He heard the faint sound of music and rushed upstairs to the master bedroom. She was lying on the bed. It had been left unmade for days and she was listening to Dionne Warwick; that meant she was even more depressed than usual.

As she sang 'walk on by' to herself, she noticed her husband was in the room with her.

'Hello, darling, come and lay with me.'

She was a good drunk now and he smiled at her tenderly. He loved her like no other and each day, as she attempted to destroy herself a little bit more, his heart broke.

He lay down beside her. Her hair needed a good wash, her clothes were crumpled, and her breath was atrocious. But when he looked into her eyes, he saw the guilt and the bewilderment that had attracted him in the first place. He had believed all those years ago that he could make her better. But he couldn't, no one could.

'Don't leave me, darling. Please don't ever leave me, will you? I'd die, see. I would, I'd just die without you…' She was slurring her words and he knew she would have no recollection of anything by the morning, but he held her tight and reassured her of his love and devotion.

'Don't you go and walk on by. I'd kill meself, I would. Do you think Colleen was walking somewhere, eh? Walking by someone…'

She was rambling now. He knew all the stages of her drunkenness; the next step was when she fell asleep, unconscious would be a more apt expression, and then he would lie there and watch her, wondering when this would all fucking end. He was tired of it, so bloody tired.

'I ain't got to answer to you or her for that matter.'

'No one said you did, Lance. You want to walk away from this firm, then you go. No one's going to stop you and her, as you referred to our mother, has as much right to question you as I do.'

Lance looked at his older brother with his usual disdain.

'I can work where I like and with whom I like.'

Pat walked towards him then and, looking him in the eye, he said loudly, 'But that's just it, Lance, you can't. You can't fucking go round with your mate Barker threatening people we are in partnership with. What kind of fucking stupidness is that? If they owe money to Barker then let him go and pull it in; you ain't got no fucking allegiance to that cunt. No one has; he's a standing joke, a by-word for liars and thieves. He's one leg up from a fucking gas-meter bandit and it's a wonder he ain't out there kiting, he is such a fucking twonk!'

Lance ran his hands through his hair and laughed nastily. 'He could fucking buy and sell you, mate.'

Lil had heard enough and, getting up from her chair, she pushed Pat out of the way and bellowed, 'How dare you! You're nothing but a fucking leech. If you think that by going around with that ponce and threatening people in their own homes with their kids there, that we will walk you out of that one, you can think again, boy. We've put the word out and if anyone wants to come back at you, they can. And you tell Donny from me, that if I ever see him again, I'll fucking dismantle him meself. And you know me, Lance. I am more than capable of doing that, if the fancy takes me.'

'Oh, here we go, you telling me what to do as usual. You don't mind me breaking heads when it suits you two, do you?'

Lil started laughing then. Really laughing. A sad, almost heartbroken laugh that was as insulting to him as it was making the guilt inside him unbearable.

'Of course we don't mind you doing that, it's what we pay you for, it's what you do in this family. Let's face it, you don't do fuck all else.'

Pat pulled her away and walked her back to her seat.

'Mum! Sit down and let's sort this out, shall we?'

Lil was not in the mood. Lance's complete disinterest in what they were trying to say to him had finished her. She wanted him out now and she was not bothered who got hurt by it, least of all Lance.

'Fuck him, Pat; if he thinks that he can do that without any kind of comeback, then let him go. Let him go and work with Donny Barker. Only he would be silly enough to fucking contemplate that. Everyone else gives him a wide berth but then most people do the same thing with him, don't they, Lance?'

Pat was annoyed now. His mother was making matters worse.

'Mum. Just shut up a minute, will you?'

She lit a cigarette, one of the few she smoked these days, and it was a sure sign of her agitation.

'No, I fucking won't shut up. I have wanted to say this for a long time. He mugs us all off and we let him. When I heard you had threatened the Chapmans in their own home for a few fucking grand, money that Donny had creamed off their boy, I was so ashamed and so fucking embarrassed that I nearly died. They didn't owe him a bean, their boy did and he owed a few hundred, that was all. Donny makes up half his debts and you, like the fucking div you are, go in there with him and do his dirty work. Half the debts he buys are not even valid. He fucking snows you and then he takes the piss out of you. Ask around. He thinks he is a big man because he has a fucking Brodie as a pet. Well, Lance, you've been warned before and you ain't took a blind bit of notice. This time it's for real, this time I am going to sort you out once and for all. It's over.'

Lance had never heard her like this before; she never spoke to him unless she had to. He had always used that against her, knowing that her guilt over him and the way she treated him had kept him in good stead all his life.

'Look at you. I remember when you hurt Janie's little girl, bless her heart. You were a fucking bully then and you're a fucking bully now. And it stops tonight, Lance. It finally fucking stops.'

Lance was staring at his mother as if he had never seen her before. In all the years he had worked with his family, she had never said so much to him at one time. In fact, he couldn't remember ever having a conversation with her in his life. Pat could see the hurt his brother was experiencing; he knew that whatever had happened, he actually loved this woman who had never once given him a kind word.

'She don't mean that, Lance. She's annoyed, we both are…'

'Oi! Patrick Brodie, don't you dare talk for me. I am just about at the end of my patience with him, and you, come to that. I heard whispers about him years ago and I swallowed. But not any more. I have to say this now while I still have the chance. My cancer is back and I will not go to my grave regretting that I didn't finally tell this fucking nutter what I really thought of him and his fucking carrying-on. I've left you nothing, Lance, not a brass razoo; so now you know. My mother took you the second you were born and you've been hers ever since because I never wanted you. Even as a baby you were fucking weird, unnatural. And, God forgive me, when my Colleen went missing I wished it had been you. I would have given my own life to swap her for you. I blamed you, for years I blamed you, Lance, and I don't know why. It was an instinct, a feeling I had, everything that went wrong I always felt that, somehow, it came back to you.'

'Fucking hell, Mum, that's enough!'

Patrick was in such shock at her tirade that it was only after she had sat down and lit another cigarette that he remembered her saying her cancer was back. That was why she was smoking again and drinking brandy; it was her painkiller, always had been.

Lance was still staring at her. His face was devoid of any emotion. 'You really hate me, don't you?' His voice was low and without any inflection whatsoever.

'Hate? I don't hate you, Lance. Hate is not a strong enough word for how I feel.'

Patrick was appalled at his mother's words, yet he knew she had cause. Lance had always been an outsider and even as kids he had never really felt like a part of the family. He had been eaten up with anger and hate all his life.

Patrick had only protected him through guilt, the guilt he felt because his mother had loved him with a passion. All her kids had felt that love at some time but not Lance, and that had shaped his life. It was as if they had danced around each other for all those years and they were living a lie and everything that had happened to them was just leading up to this moment in time.

The door opened and Scanlon was standing there looking at them. The atmosphere in the room was heavy with hatred and belated honesty. It was almost physical, it felt almost as if it could be touched, it was so charged with emotion.

'What the fuck do you want?'

Scanlon took a deep breath and, looking at Lil Brodie, he said sadly, 'They've found a body.'

It was a few moments before Lil realised the enormity of what the man had said.