The Family

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Chapter Forty-Two

Christine looked at her sons in their beds and felt the panic rising inside her once more. It seemed impossible that she was looking at such normality, when her life as she knew it had ceased to exist. Since the incident at Veronica's house she had been living on her nerves. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Phillip as he had been that night, but it wasn't the Phillip she had fallen in love with, it wasn't the man who had fathered her children; she saw a monster who had no control over himself whatsoever.

Since that night she had felt that she was slowly sinking into the quicksand that her whole life had been built on. When his mother had rung her and begged her to get to the house, she wasn't sure what she had expected to find – a family argument obviously, but nothing like what she had been confronted with. She kept seeing Breda on the kitchen floor, battered and bruised and, more frightening than anything, allowing it to happen to her. Breda, who normally had a row like other people had a cup of tea, had been terrified and, worse than that, she was completely accepting of her brother's outrageous behaviour. Christine felt that her whole life was a lie; everything she had believed in, and her future, had disappeared overnight.

She thought of the few times she had disagreed with Phil; he would smile at her somehow, nothing violent or intimidating, but something in his face had told her to back down, and she always had. She understood now that a small part of her must have already realised that to oppose Phil wasn't something anyone in his orbit did lightly. That even she was dependent on his good humour, his being happy.

He had looked absolutely demonic, like something from a horror movie; the devil himself could not have been more frightening in the flesh. When she thought of him in church beside her, taking Communion, smiling at the people around him, proud of his family and his beliefs, it was like she was thinking about a completely different person, someone else entirely. She couldn't equate the loving husband and father with the bullying maniac she had seen with her own eyes.

That Phillip Murphy was someone she had never really met, but she knew now that the manic-eyed, vicious man she had encountered was the real Phillip Murphy. He had hidden it well, she had to give him that, he had known how to suppress that part of his personality. But it still didn't change the fact that that was who he really was, and she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was stuck with this stranger for the rest of her days. And, more to the point, so were her sons. She had given her boys a father who was capable of literally anything and now she had seen him in his true light, fear was bearing down on her like a lead weight. A part of her hoped he had done something, had been arrested and locked up, and that was why he was missing now. She didn't want him back in her life or her sons' lives. She wanted nothing more to do with him.

Christine Murphy wanted out of her marriage, out of this life, but she knew that would never be an option for her. Phillip would make sure of it.

'Come down and have a cup of tea, child.' Veronica's voice was quiet, and Christine automatically turned and followed her from the room. She had made her mother-in-law promise to stay with her until Phil came back, as she couldn't face dealing with him alone. Veronica had readily agreed, which told Christine just how much danger she and her boys were actually in.

As she followed her mother-in-law down to the kitchen, her beautiful home didn't interest her any more. Now it felt like some kind of prison, somewhere she was being forced to reside, even though she hated it with a vengeance. She felt a wave of sickness wash over her, and knew that if something didn't happen soon she would snap. It was like waiting for a bomb to explode, only this bomb was flesh and blood, and he wasn't going to disappear after the explosion. The boys were laughing and playing, the radio was on in the background, and the smell of chicken casserole filled the house. All these things, such normal, everyday things, just made the days seem more and more surreal.

As Veronica said frequently, like some kind of mantra, life, such as it was, had to go on. You got up, and you got on with it. Well, Christine wasn't sure she was capable of going on. Only time would be the judge of that.

Chapter Forty-Three

'Fuck me, Phillip, you scared the life out of me creeping in like a fucking burglar!'

Phil Senior had turned and seen his son standing in the kitchen doorway, and it had given him a serious fright.

Phillip grinned, and his father was relieved to see he looked more or less back to normal. 'Sorry, mate, any chance of a cup of tea?'

Phil Senior was already putting the kettle on, pleased his son was back and even more pleased to see him acting normally. Phillip could be the proverbial handful, but he was a good boy for ail that, he just needed to be handled gently; if you respected his nature you were all right.

'Where's Breda?'

Phil Senior looked at his son now and, sighing, he said gently, 'Not again, Phillip. She's took it on the chin, she's been waiting to see you, but think of your mother…'

Phillip chuckled. 'She upstairs?' He walked out to the hallway calling loudly, 'Come down, Bred, Dad's making a cup of tea.' He sounded jovial, full of the joys of spring. It was as if nothing had happened. Phil Senior made the tea happily now; the storm was over, for the time being anyway.

Breda came down slowly and, as she walked into the kitchen and faced her brother, she was white-faced with fear. Phillip looked at her for a long moment, as if appraising her, then, opening his arms widely, he said in a choked voice, 'Come here,

Breda. Fucking hell, girl, what the fuck has that Jamsie caused us…

He was being magnanimous, the big man, he was all forgiving, all loving. This was benevolent Phillip; she had experienced this man before, it meant he was over his ire, he was going to let it all go. Basically she knew she was safe, and that meant the world to her. This was Phillip at his best, this was the Phillip she loved more than anyone else in the world, even her own child. She went into his arms without hesitation. She was so relieved she started to sob, her whole body shaking with the intensity of her emotions.

Phillip held her to him tightly, as if protecting her from harm. She could smell the particular smell he had – a mixture of healthy sweat and expensive aftershave. It was unique to him and, at times like this, it made her feel safe, made her feel needed, wanted. Cared for. She was still part of the family, and that meant more to her than anything.

'I've seen that treacherous cunt Jamsie, and put the hard word on him. I appreciate you were only doing what you thought was right, Bred. I see that now.' He pulled her away from him and looked deep into her eyes as he said seriously, 'You caused me a lot of fucking hag, but I forgive you. You thought you were doing good and I see that now. I've smoothed over the Filth and sorted out everything. We'll talk no more about it. But, in future, you don't ever take anything like that on yourself again, do you understand me?'

She was nodding furiously now. 'I'm so sorry, Phil, I lost it a bit… I didn't think it through…'

Phillip smiled and hugged her. 'You were doing what you thought was right, and I appreciate your loyalty to me and the family. As will Declan when I tell him. You are a fucking diamond, Breda – a bit quick off the mark, but a diamond all the same.'

Phil Senior poured the tea, filled with relief. It was over,

Phillip had decided he would allow his sister to carry on in the family business. Phillip wasn't a fool, she was a grafter old Breda, they all knew that. He was just relieved it was over. He wasn't too worried about Jamsie – he would have to swallow whatever came his way now – he had asked for it, and he had got it. He was on his own now.

'Where's the little fella? Go and get him, I ain't seen him for ages. Any cake to go with that tea, Dad? I'm fucking starving…'