The Family

true her Jamsie, the biggest eejit this side of the Irish Sea, would indeed be safer in a mental institution than in his own home. Breda was bad enough, but Phillip, her eldest, he would be like a man demented. There was no way he would let Jamsie walk away from something like this; it was inconceivable that it could even have happened. Surely they had it wrong and some begrudger was telling them lies to try and cause trouble between them all? Wasn't it bad enough she had lost her lovely Declan without them taking her Jamsie away from her as well?

'Phillip will kill him stone dead.' Her voice was higher than ever, the terror making her feel faint.

Phillip Murphy Senior got up slowly and went to his wife. Veronica allowed him to pull her into his arms, to hold her – she knew she needed holding at this moment. She had to calm down, get herself sorted so she could talk to her eldest son, make him see that it was all a load of old shite. That his brother wasn't capable of such skulduggery, that he wasn't bright enough to do something so underhand, so treacherous.

For the first time ever, Veronica saw her family as other people saw them: violent criminals with no scruples whatsoever. She could hear the talk now as if the voices were in the room with her. 'Look at them Murphys, even their own flesh and blood aren't safe. Their own brother!' It would never be forgotten. It would be dragged up and remembered on regular occasions. They would be seen as animals, wild animals with no care for anyone – not even their own. She knew that they were talked about now – their lifestyles, their way of going on, but that was normal, that was just gossip. There was even an edge of respect for them in it, but there wouldn't be any more. The tight-knit Murphys were no more. They would now be seen as people who turned on their own.

Breda had caused more trouble than she realised with her actions this night. And now they had to wait and see what the upshot was going to be, because it was Phillip who would decide the outcome, and Breda should have understood that from the start. As she watched her daughter, trying to pretend she wasn't bothered about the aggravation she had caused, she was filled with regret for what her family had been reduced to. No one knew her children's faults better than her; after all she had birthed them, each one, she knew their weaknesses, as well as their strengths. But for all Jamsie's stupidity, unlike this daughter of hers, he honestly didn't have the sense to work out that every action had a consequence. Her Phillip, on the other hand, had known that from a very young age, he didn't shit unless he had planned it down to the last detail. Breda should have used her loaf, thought about what she was doing. Her youngest son was fighting for his life in hospital and she couldn't even go to his side until she had sorted out the situation here first. She daren't leave Breda alone with her brother – otherwise the chances were she would be visiting two of her children in intensive care instead of one. How had this happened to them? It was as if overnight her family was being decimated before her eyes; their closeness which she had been so proud of was gone and her children were suddenly enemies. Everything she had worked for since their births was destroyed.

Breda was sitting on the kitchen chair defiantly, looking at her mother as if she was the one who had done something wrong, as if this was her fault somehow. Veronica left her husband's embrace and walked slowly over to her. Then, taking her arm back, she slapped her daughter's face with all the energy she could muster. It said something for Breda that she didn't retaliate, that she took the blow without a word. She looked at her father, but he didn't react in any way. He had sat down again quietly, and resumed sipping his whisky. As if he knew exactly what was going to happen and there was nothing he could do about it. Or wanted to. And it was that, her father's reaction, or rather his lack of it, that finally convinced her how much trouble she was actually in.

'I did it for our Declan, for his being banged up. I did it for the family!'

Veronica shook her head sadly; the fight had left her now. 'No, you didn't, Breda, you did it for yourself, like you have always done everything for yourself.'

Breda looked at her father again and, when he deliberately avoided eye contact, she said with bravado, 'Phillip doesn't scare me, the man ain't been born who can scare me.'

Veronica laughed mirthlessly. 'I wouldn't be too sure about that, Breda. I think that man just pulled up outside.'

Chapter Thirty-Three

Phillip stood outside his mother's house for a few moments to gather himself together. He knew that he was still angry enough to let his sister have it. He could really hurt her badly if he wasn't careful.

This was the first public problem he'd had to face where the family was concerned. And it didn't come more fucking public than this. All his hard work keeping them on a low profile, making them part of the inner fabric of their world quietly and unobtrusively, was gone now. Thanks to Breda they were like the local fucking bully boys. He could hear his heartbeat crashing in his chest, even though outwardly he looked perfectly calm. The evening air was welcome, he gulped it into his lungs, enjoying the darkness and the solitude for another few moments before all hell was let loose.

The worst thing was that this confrontation with his sister had been on the cards for a long while – he just hadn't thought it would be over something this serious, over something so personal. He was frustrated that he hadn't seen something like this coming; it was, in reality, typical Breda, sticking her nose in regardless of the consequences. He knew she was stupid enough to think that people knowing what she had done to her own brother, and why, could only be good for the family. That's how fucking far from reality she actually was. Breda thought they should live like some kind of gangster film; she walked the walk, talked the talk, and looked a complete prat because of it. The reason he was so successful was because he didn't feel the need to become a parody of himself He had his businesses and they were legitimate – any moody enterprises were well hidden from the public face of the family. It didn't suit him to have Jamsie and Breda tearing around like the Krays on amphetamines, it drew unwanted attention to him. It was the old guilt by association – the fact the whole neighbourhood knew didn't augur well for the future. It was simple logistics. He had sussed all that out at an early age having worked for people with a measure of decorum and sense. He had learned and learned well, that people only knew what you told them – ergo, keep your trap shut and you'll be safe.

Now he had Declan to protect, and as for Jamsie – well, he knew exactly what was going to happen there. Thanks to Breda it had all come on top a bit too soon. Breda had gone too far – how dare she take this on herself. How dare she think she could get away with this as if it was nothing! As if he would not have anything to say about her actions. Who the fuck did she think she was?

There was a large part of him that believed she needed a serious fright, to understand, finally and irrevocably, that her behaviour was totally unacceptable. She needed a kicking, a real fucking hiding to show her just how serious he was. He automatically smoothed his hair, wiped his hand over his face, and straightened his clothes. He liked to be in control but, more to the point, he liked to look it.

As he made his way into the family home he felt the atmosphere and he was glad of it. He walked into the kitchen quietly, the reassuring smells of his childhood reminding him that this was his family and, no matter how great his ire, he had to keep this as low-key as possible. The raw terror on Breda's face told him that his sister finally understood the enormity of what she had done. It was a shame the silly bitch hadn't worked all this out earlier – none of this would have been necessary. But that was by the by now, he had to sort this and then get to the hospital, try and smooth over the cracks as per usual.

His instinct was to take Breda by the scruff of her neck and throttle her. But, of course, that wasn't an option. Not at this particular moment anyway. He could feel her eyes on him, feel the arrogance mingled with fear, as she stared at him.

Veronica ran into her son's path, her arms held out as if to stop him in his tracks. 'Now come on, son, calm down, she realises she's been a fool…'

He knew that his mother was terrified for her daughter; the fact she wasn't at the hospital with her son who was lying in a coma spoke volumes. Like any mother, she was trying to protect her young no matter what they might have done. He frowned at her then and, moving her gently from his path, he addressed his father. 'Get her down the hospital, to Jamsie. He needs his mummy at a time like this. Also, it will be damage limitation when the Filth start sniffing round.' He looked at his mother and, smiling gently, he said seriously, 'And they will start sniffing, Mum, so we have to box clever, eh?'

He was stroking her down, they all knew it. His father was already out of the chair and putting his jacket