The Family

was worried, really worried, and her first thought was to get herself a drink. So she opened a bottle of vodka and, sitting at the kitchen table, poured herself a large glass, added a couple of ice cubes, and tossed it back in two gulps. Then she poured another immediately, waiting for the trembling to stop. Lighting a cigarette, she pulled on it deeply, blowing the smoke out noisily. Then getting up she raced through to the downstairs bathroom. Standing on the toilet seat, she placed her hand behind the cistern and, frowning, she realised there was no little plastic pack of pills hidden there. Phillip had probably had the place swept by the drugs squad.

Back in the kitchen, she took another deep draught of the vodka. But it was no good, she still felt unable to think about the problem in hand. It was all too outrageous, but she knew in her heart it was the truth.

Timmy, her younger son, and the person Philly had chosen as his best man, was behind his shooting. He had wanted his brother dead, of that she was sure.

She felt the sickness assail her once more. What the fuck had she bred? Was it Phillip's fucked-up DNA, or was it because she had been drunk most of their lives and they had been left to drag themselves up? Was it because Timmy felt, as the younger son, he wasn't getting what he felt he was entitled to? Or was it because, and this was her real belief, he really was his father's son? Like Phillip, he removed any obstacle that might be in his way. Looking back he had been that way as a kid, but she hadn't realised it till now. Quiet little Timmy, who you overlooked because, unlike Philly, he didn't demand, or shout about his feelings. He just waited, and waited, and then took what he wanted at the appropriate time. He was the good boy, the good son. Philly had been seen as the little bastard, but he'd just been like other boys his age. Foolish, selfish, but not really bad. Jesus Christ, how had her life come to this? She felt the useless tears of futility and anger, and wondered what she was to do with this knowledge now she had it. She thought of Philly, on his honeymoon and unaware that the person he thought was his best friend, as well as his brother, was behind his attempted murder.

Who could she tell? That was the thing. Phillip was questionable, she knew that. He would probably just weigh up the pros and cons and decide which boy he was going to keep! Declan? He might be worth approaching. Once it would have been Breda, but she would not tell her any of this. Something had happened between her and Phillip, and he treated her like some kind of Mafia don these days. Asking for her opinion on everything, and giving her the most lucrative Legends to run for him. She was overseeing the boys and they answered directly to her. So Breda wouldn't want to rock any boats – even her Porrick was now on the proper payroll, running a new business Breda had set up putting fruit machines in pubs and cafes. No, Breda was too close to Phillip at the moment, it would have to be Declan. But she knew Declan wouldn't be able to keep something like this to himself. He would see it as something Phillip needed to know.

She felt a wave of nausea once again, the worry inside her gnawing at her, making her feel like she had years ago when her nerves had started. It was the same hollowness in her stomach, the terror of each day and what it might bring down on them all. But even that was nothing compared to this latest trouble. Her own son, her baby, wanted to take out his own brother. She was too frightened to ever say any of this out loud.

Suppose she was wrong? Suppose she had got the wrong end of the stick? Maybe it was like what Phillip said when he ranted about the judicial system, he was always going on about circumstantial evidence. How people might look guilty, but that didn't mean they were. He could go on for hours about the subject, and frequently did. She was pretty sure that wasn't the case here, but she still grabbed on to the thought. So, with Declan and Breda out of the running there was no one else she could trust enough to tell. Even her Philly would think she was just off her chump again – she knew how crazy it would sound.

It was weird, her intuition was eating her up. Phillip mentioning Planter's name was fate, and she believed in all that – she believed things were meant to happen. Like Philly surviving the gunshot wound – he had survived because he had just stepped forward to kiss Finoula, and that had stopped the blast from hitting its mark. It had to be a death sentence Timmy ordered for Philly – there was no reason whatsoever for him to just get his brother shot, that had no value to him or anyone else. She had not been married to Phillip Murphy all this time without picking up some bloody tips on how their world worked.

Philly was away for ten days, but he had to be back to sort out the clubs for the spring openings. Phillip always had them professionally cleaned and any necessary repairs made; it was important that the places looked new and smart, as befitted the clientele. Philly and Timmy would be working flat out on that, as well as everything else that made up their job descriptions. So she had ten days to talk to Timmy, and carefully gather as much information as she could. She only hoped she had the guts to go through with her plan. When Timmy discovered she had sussed him out would she be next on his list? There was so much to think about, and so much to worry about, not least the fact that her child was capable of killing his brother. A brother who was just starting out on his married life, and who had no idea what had really happened to him. The worst thing was, she knew that if Timmy had tried to kill her husband, his father, she wouldn't have lifted a finger to stop him. But then, she assumed Phillip would be next on Timmy's list.

She was in a quandary all right; she had to decide which of her sons would live. Because even she knew that Timmy couldn't be allowed to ever get a chance like that again. Philly didn't deserve any of this, and that was what was so bad. She would have to choose between her sons, but she knew, deep inside, that she already had. It seemed that the hypocrisy that Phillip had instilled in them all, so many years ago, was still alive and rampant inside her as well these days.

If someone had said she would one day be faced with a dilemma like this she would have laughed in derision, yet, thinking back, it was a wonder something like this had never happened before now.

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Seven

'You all right, Mum?'

Timmy was watching Christine from across the room. She looked spaced as usual, but he knew she wasn't on anything, she was just like Dilly Daydream, staring into space.

'I'm fine. Why aren't you at the airport with the others?'

He grinned. 'What, meeting up with the conquering hero? He's been on honeymoon, Mum, not a fucking tour of Iraq.'

He was good, she couldn't deny that. His words sounded like a joke, but she heard the underlying meaning. She watched him warily again, he was fascinating to her these days. She loved him – he was still her son, and for that she would always have some feeling for him – but it was not like before. It could never be the same again.

She glanced away from him, and saw him looking her up and down carefully in the huge antique mirror over the fireplace. Before she could stop herself she said innocently, 'Seen anything of Graham Planter lately?'

As she spoke she turned in the chair and looked him directly in the face. His pupils widened and for a few seconds his eyes were almost black. She knew that she had frightened him and she grew braver with the sensation.

'What makes you ask that?' He had recovered his composure now, but she knew he was rattled.

'I just wondered. It's funny, son, but he was never your friend. Then your dad said he saw you and him at the wedding, up by the big barn. That's where your father keeps those guns, ain't it? That Jamal delivers them. Contrary to popular belief, I see a lot more than any of you have ever given me credit for. Oh, and tell Graham I liked his hat that night at the club – nearly didn't recognise him in it.'

They were looking deep into each other's eyes now, and she could see a small tic pulsing at the side of Timmy's right eye. That she had rattled him, she had no doubt; she couldn't have made it any plainer. He knew she knew all right, he was just deciding what to do about it. It was like watching Phillip at work, it was almost uncanny. Her son had inherited his father's complete disregard for human life.

'Are you trying to tell me something, Mum?'

She shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. 'Such as? What are you on about?'

'Well, that's what I'm asking you, ain't it?'

She sighed heavily, as if all this was well over her head, and she had no idea what he might mean. 'You are a bit odd today, Timmy. Been missing your brother I expect.' She smiled as easily as she could manage with the trembling that was now threatening to take over her whole body. But she was nearly there, and she knew she had