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Chapter Three

Everyone, especially the police, knew that Pat had taken out his arch rivals. And as luck would have it, nobody, including the police, cared. Billy Spot's demise had been on the cards for a while, it was just a case of who would be responsible, as opposed to when it would happen. Pat Brodie had been a contender for a while and the sensible money had been on him.

When he had wiped out Spot he had opened up the West End for everyone. Unlike Spot and his cronies though, Pat and his cohorts were quite happy to let people work their trades in relative peace and tranquillity. Providing they made sure that a percentage of the money earned made its way into their pockets they were happy. Life was good for everyone; Pat was fair, and the numerous Williams brothers who were on his leash were amicable and easy enough to get along with. Business thrived for everyone, from the street vendors to the club owners. Life was easier than it had been for years and, as Pat and his cohorts made a point of being seen on the very streets they policed, no one was worried about late-night visits and protection money being demanded twice in one night. Spot had not watched over his troops and that had been when the rot had set in. So now, everyone was earning, and everyone was feeling relaxed enough to unload the shotguns they kept under their bars and hide away the handguns they might have kept in their cars.

Until, that is, they had all been brought to the notice of the local filth by a disgruntled punter. Kevin Craig had been served up by a man called Denny Harris and, even though it had been a worry at the time, it had ended up being a blessing in disguise.

Denny had a grievance, a fair grievance as it turned out, because Kevin was a greedy ponce who was taking more than he was entitled to. He was in effect shaking him down twice, something that normally would have been frowned upon by everyone concerned. That, however, was another story. The main thrust of the whole saga was that Denny had grassed, and even though Kevin was out of order, there was still no justifiable reason in their world for Denny's outrageous actions. Grassing anyone up to the Old Bill was tantamount to treason, and Denny's mistake came at a time when a well-earned lesson was not only needed, but was also welcomed by the powers that be.

Pat and the Williams brothers knew that in order to cement their new-found notoriety, they would need to make an example of someone. In short, Billy Spot and Barry Caldwell had been big fish, and big fish expected to be challenged eventually. Now they needed to show the smaller fish, the hustlers, the pimps, the bookies and the club owners, the people who would ultimately be their bread and butter, that they had their fingers on every pulse in the smoke, and would know immediately if anyone was trying to hold back any of their earnings. Pat knew that anyone who was waltzing through life without paying their due was going to brag about it eventually, and because they had had a touch without any kind of redress, they would not see them as a real threat. Instead, they would eventually take on more businesses without consulting anyone about it first, and that would be how the rot could set in. The first serious mugging off had to be sorted quickly, violently and with the maximum of fuss. If they let it go, people would soon cotton on, and that was how you lost face, because it was the smaller businesses that were the staple of any empire. The rents, as they were known, were what kept everyone on their toes. If you would go to war for a few quid, it was assumed you would be capable of murder for the larger amounts. This was a natural dilemma for anyone who was in control of any business, legit or otherwise.

So Denny, by rights, should have brought his problem to them, and they would have sorted it out. Everyone would have been a winner, Kevin would have had his wrist slapped and it would have been a five-minute wonder and of no consequence to anyone. Instead, Denny had actually had the gall to overlook them, to try to sort it out with Kevin, who was a bona fide arsehole at the best of times, and so far down the pecking order he was virtually classed as a serf. And when that had failed and knowing he had naused himself up with Kevin's bosses, he had then had the audacity to go to the Old Bill. Unbelievable as it was, this had been what had happened.

So, all in all, what was an abortion had actually ended up working in everyone's favour. Denny had been outed as the treacherous bastard he was, and had been the recipient of a world-class hammering. If he walked again it would be a miracle, and on top of that, as a known grass, he was also off everyone's Christmas card list for the foreseeable future.

The Williamses had let it be known that the filth involved was, as luck would have it, one of theirs, and Pat had ostentatiously given Denny's business interests over to a local firm who were known to make themselves busy and earn a few quid, but who would never be a contender for anyone's crown because they were not the sharpest knives in the drawer. All in all, it had been perfect PR.

Taking their due was one thing, and they knew that, keeping it though, was another story entirely. Now the word was out that they had a finger in all the main pies, life was easier than ever.

Grasses had to be dealt with severely because they did not just affect people's livelihoods, they could also be the reason why men were separated from their families for years. Children lost their fathers, wives lost their husbands, mothers lost their sons. It was the ultimate piss-take, the ultimate tuck-up.

Consequently, a clear message had to be sent out; the culprit had to bear the scars of their treachery for everyone to see. It was unacceptable behaviour, all the more heinous because they were people that had been trusted, had been allowed access to the world of the very people they had betrayed. In short, they had to be trounced publicly and with the maximum of pain and humiliation, so anyone else harbouring thoughts of the big time would take a step back and have a serious rethink of their situation.

Denny now bore the mark of the grass, otherwise known as the permanent grin. It was a throwback from the fifties, but even twenty years later it still did its job. His mouth had been opened from ear to ear with a boxcutter's knife. Every time Denny looked in the mirror he would be reminded of what he had done.

The scars would also guarantee that he would be shunned by anyone in the life, no matter how far he tried to roam. He was a pariah, an outcast, but more importantly he was a fool to himself. Even his brothers had turned their back on him, as would his sons eventually.

Pat was still riding the crest of his own wave. The Williams brothers were his partners and they were all earning serious wedge. They had plenty of people working the pavements for them and plenty of time now for leisure pursuits, and as the owners of massage parlours, gambling dens and hostess clubs, their leisure time and their business meetings tended to be held in these places.

Pat, though, made a point of going home, unlike the Williamses who felt they had their own personal playgrounds. It was hard for any man to live their kind of lives and still want to go home to the little woman. The wife was respected, loved even, but her main attraction was that she would not put herself about. The men, however, did not see that as any kind of barrier to enjoying themselves. It was the nature of their very lifestyles; spare, or strange as it was often referred to, was everywhere they turned. Even for the men who were not exactly the answer to a maiden's prayer.

Girls lined up to be with them and the men chose to believe that it was because of their handsome faces and sparkling personalities. They forgot that these were women who were already predisposed to sleeping with any man for financial gain. That these were women who were better actresses in the kip than the cream of the Hollywood divas. These were women and girls who saw sleeping with one man, whoever he might be, as a better deal than chancing their arm every night with whoever wandered into their very limited orbit. With a Face, a criminal, they at least had some respect, and they also had regular money and a proper in, say if a new club opened and a head girl might be needed. They were someone already in the foreground, they knew the ropes, were trustworthy and above all, would keep any secrets that might emerge. They would also swallow if one of the newer, fresher, younger girls caught their man's eye. They had what they wanted, why would they care?

They were perfect mistresses, their whole lifestyle stopped them ever getting above their station, and it also guaranteed an affection and loyalty that would last them for years. The wives, however, had something these women would never have; they had their husbands' respect and because of that they were safe even if they put on weight, lost interest in sex or became a religious fanatic. The legal always had the edge, and a sensible legal used that to her advantage, turned a blind eye to her husband's sexual gymnastics and enjoyed the fruits of her husband's endeavours. It was nothing personal, it was just an occupational hazard.

Even Pat took a flier occasionally; a bit of strange was on most men's agenda and he was no different, he just had more access to it than the average guy. But that was as far as it went with him, the odd flier. Never the same bird and always without any kind of wooing. No drink bought, no meal provided, and definitely no offer of a lift home. He did not want a repeat performance, and he did not want to get involved in their lives in any way, shape or form. He got a blow job and that was it. Something he would never have asked of, or expected from, his Lil. And nine times out of ten, only then when Lil was indisposed through pregnancy or after a birth. It was nothing more than an urge. It had nothing to do with his life, or his family.

This was another reason he was respected by his peers. There was no real talk about him, in fact no one really knew anything about him. Even the Williamses had to admit that much.

As for Lil, she attended church regularly, she was still young enough to hold his interest and he loved her and what she represented to him. And in her own way she was now a lynchpin in his organisation. He used her and she was shrewd enough to understand that. She was the only person he could really trust.

Lil still visited the prisons and passed on information; it had never occurred to her not to do it, her husband expected it and she did as he asked. It made her feel needed, a part of it all.

She also felt that, at nineteen with two handsome sons, and enough money to keep her in a way that most people only dreamt about, she could turn a blind eye to any rumours or suspicions she might harbour about her husband.

Lily Brodie, nee Diamond, was a great believer in what you didn't know could not hurt you. She had known instinctively when he had been unfaithful to her the first time. She had felt his shame, had breathed in his treachery, yet at the same time she had always known that the day would come. She didn't know how she knew that; she had been so naïve sexually, still was in many ways, but somewhere in the back of her mind she had registered that fact.

She also knew that only a complete fool would cause an international incident over it. On some level she knew without a doubt that it meant nothing to him, and she also knew that it must therefore mean nothing to her. He was not like the average man, and if she tried to make him like that, she would only set herself up for failure. She had seen the consequences of the women who had tried to tame their mates and it had always ended in tears. The men eventually outed even the most virginal of wives, the mothers of their legal children, because the women had been too much like hard work. No woman, no matter who they were, could compete with youth and the mystery of a silky pair of drawers and a lusty laugh. So she decided early on in her marriage to overlook his other life; it was the only way she could even hope to survive it.

No matter how much her mother tried to poison her mind, she knew that the woman who could lure Pat away from her for any length of time had not been born yet.

When they went out together she saw the way he was treated and she knew the temptation that was under his nose on a daily basis. Lily had the same sexual drive as her husband and so she appreciated that he had the opportunity to take advantage of it by the very nature of his business commitments. Men like Pat Brodie needed to take advantage of their freedom because they never knew when it was going to be taken away from them.

Ignoring it all was, she knew, a mindset. She just had to accept it as something that was part and parcel of his lifestyle and she was not about to throw away the best thing that had ever happened to her over something that was so trivial to her, and so unimportant to him that he forgot about it within minutes of it happening.

She had decided that she would rather live with him, and all that entailed, than be without him. She had also realised that she had to be more to him than just his wife, than just the mother of his children. She had to make a connection with him that would give them something other than their shared children in common. She was determined to become an important part of his life in her own right.

He was going to be unfaithful to her, it was something she expected and accepted. It was inevitable. She was a realist, and she hoped that her honesty would not be rewarded by her breaking her heart over his disloyalty. At least his forays into the world of strange were not a regular occurrence; unlike most of his contemporaries.

The first time it happened she had felt as if her heart had been ripped out of her chest; now she felt contempt for a woman who would allow herself to be used like that, even as she pitied her, because the life the girl lived ensured that encounters with men like her husband were a foregone conclusion.

Lily had an innate kindness that allowed her to see everyone in the best possible light. Once she had seen the inside of a club she had not seen the women as whores, or rivals in any way. Instead, she had seen them as victims. Victims of men in that they were forced by circumstances to utilise the only asset they possessed. If she had daughters, she was determined that they would be educated enough to make different choices if their life went pear-shaped.

She had once gone to one of the hostess clubs to relay a message after one of her prison visits and been witness to a punter causing World War Three over a bill. She had watched as the doorman tried to calm the situation and seen how the bill had finally been paid in full, without the hostess getting her fee. She had stepped in, and before the punter had left the premises she had seen to it that the girl was also paid in full. The doorman was left in no doubt that the hostesses were to be his priority in future as they were the ones who brought the men into the club in the first place.

Without the girls, why would the men pay the inflated prices? Why should a girl spend the best part of the night talking the man out of his money for the club and then be left out when the punter was asked to weigh out at the end of the night?

To Lil, it was ludicrous, but then she was too young to realise that the girls in the clubs were ten a penny. Pretty girls were commonplace and women willing to sit on the meat seats were legion. Men walked away from their kids without a backward glance; women, however, were not afforded that luxury, nor would they want to anyway. But they still had to earn a living so they could feed and clothe their kids, which was why the clubs were inundated with women.

The doorman, however, had humoured her that night and the girls had fallen in love with her.

It had been a difficult situation for Patrick Brodie when he listened to Lil; he had never in his life been expected to see a brass all right. But the brass in question had been an acquaintance of Lil's in the cigarette factory. Seeing her reduced to hostessing because her husband had gone on the trot, leaving her with three kids and a mountain of debt, had made the now-powerful and fair-minded Lily Brodie angry. And she let Patrick know it in no uncertain terms.

She liked the feel of the clubs anyway; she enjoyed the camaraderie of the girls, it reminded her of the cigarette factory and how she had finally felt a part of something. She found that she liked being outside the home with other women, and it brought her closer to her husband. Like any young girl, Lily craved excitement and suddenly she had it in abundance.

Now that Pat wanted her to do more in the clubs she was realising just how hard the life was for the women who had to live it. She didn't yet understand that it was the kindness inside her that her husband was exploiting because he saw the way the girls reacted to her, and how she dealt with them. Lil was a natural head girl, and she was not averse to seeing a punter slaughtered if he was not feeling inclined to pay his hugely inflated bill.

Pat was thrilled that his Lily, his heart, was willing to work for him and take the burden of the girls off his shoulders. She was now going from club to club, keeping an eye out and making sure that things were run in an orderly fashion. She had a knack for it and she also had a nose for trouble-makers, both male and female. She was good with money and tallied the takings up quicker than he ever could. She was an asset and he was pleased and amazed that she was willing to work with him, even after finding out first-hand what he was involved in. Unlike the other wives, Lily was a real asset; in the days when women were either used or exploited, she was making use of her acumen for both their benefits.

He had thought that the prostitution would have gone against the grain, she was so prim and proper in many ways. But she seemed to understand better than he did what made the women tick, and what made them sell themselves on a daily basis.

She was making her mark and she was also making sure that the clubs ran smoothly and that gave him more time for his other businesses. Some of the people he dealt with were not impressed. They saw him as being pussy-whipped but he always pointed out, when they dared say so to his face, that at the end of the day, if he couldn't trust her, who the fuck could he trust?

Lil was putting the boys to bed. She was already dressed up to go out and she was trying unsuccessfully to blot out her mother's voice.

Since her marriage, her mother had made herself busy. At first, she had been a dream, although it had taken Lily a while before she had trusted her enough to let her into her new life.

After the birth of Lance though, her second son, her mother had reverted back to her old ways. Finding fault, making remarks and it was getting more and more difficult to pretend that all was well with them.

Annie loved her first grandson, Patrick Junior, but Lance, she was absolutely besotted with him. Since the day he had emerged from her womb, a month early, kicking and screaming, she had been like a woman demented. It was as if she had birthed him herself.

Now, as Lil looked down at her boys, she wondered why she didn't feel the same way. She loved her second son, but he was such a strange child, he stared at her as if he was sizing her up. Waiting for her to make a rick of some sort. He was a handsome child, with a shock of dark hair like his father, and with Annie's pale-grey eyes. He was striking, and people had remarked on his colouring since the day he was born. But Lil's guilt over this child stemmed from the fact that she found touching him slightly distasteful. She had stopped breast-feeding him as soon as she could, reverting to the bottle with what her mother saw as unseemly haste, even though it meant she could nurse him for hours on end. Lance's skin always felt clammy to the touch, and unlike young Pat, he had a big-boned feel to him that made her uncomfortable. He was also very well endowed, which gave his father cause for ribald comments, yet made her feel uncomfortable with him. He lay there at three years old, legs splayed and still in nappies, making her mother comment that here was a boy who would do things in his own time. But Lil thought it was laziness that kept him in nappies, nothing more. Lance let Pat Junior do everything for him, and it felt wrong. He manipulated everyone around him, especially Annie. And he did it without any effort on his part at all. Even Patrick was enamoured of him but, as bad as it made her feel, and no matter how much the guilt ate at her, she couldn't see this child as everyone else did.

Yet she loved him, and in her own way she protected him, because he was hers, she had birthed him. He was her responsibility and, unlike her mother who had left her to her own devices, she was determined that none of her children would ever feel abandoned, unwanted or unloved. They were hers, and she would die for them.

As she bent to kiss Lance's head, his peculiar smell of baby sweat and urine once more made her shudder. She couldn't figure out why he made her feel so uncomfortable and the feelings that he engendered made her question her role as a mother.

Pat Junior was lying in the other bed smiling at her, and his smile lifted her heart. This was a child she could really love. He was happy, healthy and, unlike Lance, he talked to her and reacted with her. Lance said few words, and it wasn't because he couldn't, he just didn't want to.

'Night, Mum.'

She smiled at her eldest child, and her heart swelled with pride. His dark good looks and startling blue eyes mark a winning combination. He looked Irish, and he had the blarney, as Pat was always joking.

He was all for cuddling his sweet-smelling mother and she, as always, obliged.

'Off to sleep now, baby, and I'll bring you back a Caramac.'

He was thrilled, his sweets were assured and his eyes were already closing as she snuck from the room.

Annie was making a cup of tea and Lil, as always, felt the burden of her. She felt responsible for people, even though she knew in her heart of hearts that it wasn't her job. Her mother had treated her worse than a dog all her life. Pat questioned her about it constantly but, as she tried to explain, her mother was the only mother she was ever going to get. Like with Lance, no matter what she felt inside, they were her family and she would never ever let them down. No one really guessed about her feelings for her younger son and if it was left to her no one ever would.

As Annie laced her tea liberally with a bottle of Bushmills whiskey, Lil forced a smile and said gaily, 'I'm off, Mum.'

'You're looking more and more like the women you are supposed to be earning from.' It was supposed to be funny, but the underlying sarcasm was there all the same.

Lil looked into the faded eyes so like her own and felt a sudden urge to scream. She felt stifled, suffocated and, like Patrick Brodie, she wondered why she put herself through all this day after day. Her mother was like a snake, dripping her venom into her sons' ears. Guilt was a strange thing, a destructive thing.

As Lil walked from the house, the silence was deafening and the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken thoughts and unwanted emotions.

In the cool evening air, she was finally able to breathe easily once more. She gulped it into her lungs as if her life depended on it.

Ruby Tyler smiled at Pat as he looked over the club; he was searching for someone in particular though no one would have guessed that from his demeanour.

He saw Ruby's eyes on him and he wished he had not been so drunk the night before. Ruby had ambitions for the big time, and now she had serviced him she was expecting some kind of reward. She saw him as a step-up, as a wage packet for the foreseeable future. She was not, he realised, a woman who would be shrugged off easily; in fact, she was already looking decidedly piqued at his lack of interest in her. Ruby, unfortunately for them both, had a very high opinion of herself.

As Pat walked through the club into his small office, he knew she would not be far behind him.

He was pouring himself a Scotch when he heard her enter the room: the door closed quietly and he took a deep breath before saying, 'What can I do you for?'

As he turned to face her, he marvelled at the stupidity of women. Especially women like Ruby. She was a sort, an earner. That was her prerogative of course, but it was also a good reason for her to realise that he wouldn't be looking for a long relationship with her just because she had blown him off once.

Ruby, for her part, was well aware that she was a good-looking girl, but she also saw herself as a bit of a shrewdie. She thought she had enough nous and enough body to tame the wildest of men. Patrick Brodie was a prize by anyone's estimation and she saw herself as the new contender for his affections. He had a couple of kids with his wife so he must be getting bored, and he was a Face. In her book, he was in line for the full Ruby Tyler treatment. She wanted the notoriety that being his pull would bring, and she wanted an easy ride in the club as would be her right as his bird. Ruby saw herself as a realist: she knew he would never marry her, or live with her. She would be strictly his outside bird. And she was content with that and all it would bring her. He had singled her out, she had obliged and now she was determined to make the most of the opportunity he had afforded her. As she had remarked to her best friend, she was not letting this one go without a fucking good fight.

Patrick stared at her for long moments and she felt the sheer magnetism that dangerous men seemed to have in abundance. He was a handsome fuck, no doubt about that and, coupled with his rep and his financial status, he was the answer to every hostess's dreams. A man with a bit of clout was what she wanted; she had no interest in his loyalty, no interest in anything pertaining to him and his married life. Not yet anyway. All she wanted was a piece of the action, her fifteen minutes of fame.

'Well?'

His blue eyes were cold and for a split second she faltered.

She smiled then, showing her perfect teeth. Ruby had a lovely smile and she had paid a fortune to guarantee that it stayed that way. All her body maintenance was about the long term and making sure she didn't end up like her mother. Old before her time and acting twenty years older than she actually was because her life had ended abruptly with the unfortunate acceptance of a plain gold wedding band.

'Are you a bit fucking thick?'

Ruby stared at him, unsure what to say, the smile still on her thickly painted face.

He walked towards her: he wasn't rushing, he didn't seem angry so she wasn't too bothered until he grabbed her round the throat and pushed her up against the door. 'You listen to me and you listen good. If I ever see you within three foot of me again I'll break your fucking neck. Now, do you understand me or shall I tattoo it on your fucking fat arse?'

Pat's voice was low, and she realised then that she had completely misread the situation.

Ruby Tyler was now terrified of the man she had so recently seen as an easy mark.

He looked into her eyes and then, hawking deeply in his throat, he spat into her face. The globule of phlegm hit her on the cheek, the residue sprayed her eyes and she closed them instinctively, expecting the worst.

'You ever fucking come near me again, girl, and you'll regret it for the rest of your life. A blow job gains you nothing from me except my disgust. Now out! Get your coat and anything else you have here and don't come back, you hear me?'

She nodded, her perfectly backcombed hair unmoving even with the violence of his attack. He loosened his grip on her throat and she instinctively leant back further on to the door, her breath coming in short and painful gasps.

He turned back to his desk and started tidying his papers, and she made her escape as quietly and as quickly as she could.

Patrick was controlling his anger with difficulty; a cunt like her could ruin his whole way of life. As easy-going as Lil was, a ponce like that fronting her up would guarantee her having to do something about it, if just to save face. He had to make sure that never happened again; what the eye don't see, the heart don't grieve over, that had been his mantra all his life and he saw no reason to change it just because some cunt with a cleavage and a friendly mouth had got too big for her boots.

Trouble looked for him, as it did most people, and he had no intention of bringing it to his own front door because some tom didn't understand the ways of the world.

Annie Diamond went to the front door, her steps light and easy on the thick carpet that she marvelled at every day. That Lil, the neuter, the runt, had managed to get herself this far on in life irked her, even though her daughter's circumstances gained her not only respect but a decent roof over her head and the added bonus of serious wedge regularly. Annie's jealousy of her daughter knew no bounds.

As she opened the door, she smiled craftily, and Mick Diamond slipped inside without a sound.

The terror of her life, the man she had shackled herself to because a name for her child had been more important than anything else, was once more a fixture. Only this time, he needed her more than she needed him.

For Annie though, his main appeal these days was the fact that she could sit with him and slaughter her daughter without worrying that it would get back to her or indeed that husband of hers.

Mick and Annie finally had a common goal; they were both determined to make the most of Lil's good fortune, and they were even more determined to wait patiently until the day Patrick Brodie got fed up with her and pushed her aside for a newer model. Although that would signal the end of any money that came their way, they were both agreed that she was getting far too big for her boots.

Mick had been overlooked by Lil and her new husband; he had been ignored and humiliated by Pat more than once. The first time he had approached him and Lil as they sat in the pub chatting. Patrick had acted like he was invisible and he had stood there all nice and friendly while his cronies had looked knowingly at each other. Lil had glanced at him and he had been gratified to see a flicker of fear in her large grey eyes.

The second time, he had waited until Pat was leaving his house and he had hailed him, introducing himself with a flourish and acting the concerned parent. He had then been told in no uncertain terms by Brodie that he knew he was a bullying ponce who had given his Lil a bastard of a life and if he thought her alliance with him was going to bring any kind of rewards then he was obviously a fucking nutcase. He also made it very clear that if he ever approached him again he would make sure that he spent the remainder of his miserable life as a raspberry ripple.

Mick had swallowed though, and when his wife had also gone AWOL he had learned a hard and bitter lesson. The survival of the fittest was an act of nature and he was now so far down the food chain that he was practically human plankton. His reign of terror was over and his daughter's wages were well out of his reach. His wife had left him without a backward glance and ingratiated herself with her daughter and her new beau. She had signed the papers that guaranteed their marriage could go ahead and she had made herself indispensable into the bargain.

She had one thing he didn't; she was blood and blood went a long way in the East End. It took a lot for anyone to turn their backs on it, and Lil was no different to anyone else in that respect. Bolting the door on a parent, no matter what they had done, would have been seen as an outrageous act of arrogance. The only way you could have got away with that was if your mother or father was proved to be either a grass or a child molester. Anything else was expected to be overlooked, and taken into consideration when the parent in question was housed and fed. Inside the front door you could do what you liked, beat the shit out of them, whatever; outside the front door though, it had to look like you were doing your duty.

Now, here he was, dependent on the woman who he felt had tricked him into marriage and then produced a child by someone else, without ever giving him a child he could call his own. But thanks to Annie's naturally antagonistic personality, he had finally got his in, even if it was only by sneaking round when Lil and Pat were both out and then having to listen to his wife's litany of complaints until she slipped him a few quid and hurried him out lest they got caught together.

He also learned a lot about Brodie and his business dealings, and the more he heard, the more his anger swelled up inside him.

Annie opened the bedroom door as always, and he looked down at the two sleeping boys, all the while wanting to wring his wife's neck for rubbing in the fact that he had no real kin of his own. But he admired them as always, and waited for her to lead him through to the kitchen and pour him a large drink.

Annie, for her part, loved the hold she now had over this man. Marriage to Mick Diamond had been a constant battle of nerves and she had been left bitter. Her daughter had been the cause of all the strife and, until Lance had been produced one sunny afternoon, she had never understood what other women seemed to take for granted. The pure unadulterated love for a child, a baby.

She had glanced at her grandson and it had been as if a bolt had been shot through her heart. From his first breath he had been to her like a young god, and the strength of her emotions concerning him had frightened her. She loved him with a passion that she had not believed she was capable of. He ate at her like a cancer, and when his mother had been nursing him she had felt an almost murderous rage that the child had not been born to her. She had convinced herself that if he had, Mick would have treated her properly, would have been proud of the child she had produced. She wasn't taunting him as he thought when she showed him her grandsons, she was trying to make him see what might have been. She had produced a child after all, he had not, and that bastard had ridden her hard for many years in the hope of making her pregnant and the more disappointed he had become, the worse her life had become. He had seen to that, blaming her for her barrenness, and begrudging the few shillings he had to provide for a child who, through no fault of her own, reminded him of his own shortcomings.

Like Mick, Annie was a person with a chip on her shoulder bigger than the San Andreas fault. They both resented Lil because she had fallen into a wonderful life and there was nothing they could do to control it. Annie lived on her son-in-law's largesse and she was sensible enough to know that if it had been left to him, she would have been aimed out of the front door without a second's thought and with his boot in her arse.

This was how these two people had ended up back together again; no one else wanted them, and that knowledge guaranteed that they would have to stick together. But for now, Annie had the upper hand and she relished it because she was shrewd enough to know that circumstances could change overnight. Lil had proved the truth of that old chestnut, as they both knew to their detriment.

Mick Diamond looked around his stepdaughter's lovely home and marvelled at what a pair of tits and a nice smile could accomplish. Women had it easy really, he was convinced of that. His treatment of his own wife was, as always, forgotten when he came here. All he saw was the benefits that Lily's comely figure had accrued and the way she had spurned the man who had given her not only his name but her respectability. God was good though; he knew that without a doubt his time would come with her. Lily Brodie would eventually fall from grace and when she did, he would be waiting.

Brodie might be the big man now, but things changed and always when people least expected it. Death crept up, illness, all manner of things were waiting to jump out and tear a lump out of the arse of people who thought they were immune to the trials and tribulations of real life.

Brodie would eventually get his collar felt or his stomach shot out like Billy Spot; it was the way of their world and patience would reward him, he was sure. And he had patience, he had it in abundance.