The Family

of him, and remember why she had fallen for him all those years ago. If it made him happy to see her so happy, then all the better. At the end of the day she realised that whatever he was, he put them all first. When the boys had needed him he had come through for them, and that proved to her that whatever he might be, he loved them in his own way. She had been drowning in her fear of him for so many years that she hadn't seen what was staring her in the face – the fact that he would do anything for his family. She was stuck with him no matter what, so why not make the best of it? Why not do what countless other women had done for generations – see his good points, play up his kindnesses. Appreciate what she did have; a lovely home, two fantastic sons, and a man who loved her to death. All of that had to count for something? Surely?

Tonight she felt a desperate need to be happy, just happy for a little while. And she felt there was a chance that she might finally achieve just that. God Himself knew she had prayed for this for years, it was about time He remembered she existed.

'I love you, Phil.'

Phillip felt like all his Christmases and birthdays had come at once and, kissing her deeply on the lips, he said huskily, 'You don't know just how much those words mean to me, Chris.'

But she did, she knew exactly how much they meant to him.

They were interrupted by the bar staff coming through to open up and, entwined in each other's arms, they greeted the guests who were lucky enough to get into the VIP bar and, therefore, an audience with Phillip Murphy. This was his seafront now, and everyone knew it. Christine stood beside him and accepted the praise and the respect he had worked so hard for and which, for him, was the icing on the cake. He was happier than he had ever been and, for once, it showed.

Chapter Seventy

'Are you all right, Christine?'

Christine laughed, a loud, brash laugh. 'Bloody hell, Mum, what is it with you? I'm either too depressed or too happy. Can't you just enjoy being here with us and stop questioning me?'

Eileen was concerned, her daughter was not right. She hadn't been right for years, of course, but she was almost manic today, like a film on fast-forward.

Christine continued, 'I've got these new meds, and they make me feel a bit odd, but they are helping me, Mum, really helping me. So don't spoil it all by having a big court case about it in me own kitchen.'

She was talking in riddles, but Eileen thought it better not to mention that. 'All right, keep your hair on. I just worry about you, darling, you are me daughter, after all.',

Eileen was grieved as usual, it was always about her, she was a two-faced, vindictive old bag. Christine felt the urge to smack her mother right in the face. But she resisted, she knew it would cause too much trouble. It was easier to listen to her, and wait patiently until she had talked herself out and then, finally, went home. Christine resented the way Eileen always came into her house and, without saying a word, made her feel inadequate, made her feel as if she was failing everyone because she didn't have the same strength her mother had to face everyday life. She knew Eileen looked down on her, looked down on her lifestyle, even though Phillip had made sure that her parents were doing really well. They were coining it in with the four shops, as her mother remarked to anyone within earshot. Yet she knew that this woman, who professed to love her, also saw her as a failure of sorts. She felt her disapproval like a physical blow and yet as Phillip added to the house and the land, she saw the naked envy on her mother's face that her daughter had gained so much from her liaison with Phillip Murphy. She was convinced her mother had prayed for them to crash and burn.

'Do you want a glass of wine, Mum?'

'Bit early, even for you, Christine.'

'Well, as Phil always says, if I want it, I should have it. Unlike you, Mother, Phil knows how to enjoy his wife and his life.' She was laughing, she felt that she was being clever, witty even.

Eileen wondered how long before this child of hers cracked up; she was like a fart in a colander, flitting here there and everywhere and going absolutely nowhere. You could almost feel the charge coming off of her. All her movements were jerky, off-kilter, and her eyes were too bright, burning in her face like hot coals. It wasn't natural and it was frightening to see her like this.

'Should you drink on those meds, Chris?'

Christine rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion. 'Will you fucking give it a rest, Mother! I like a few drinks sometimes, there's no law against it, is there? Fuck knows I'm entitled to a bit of relaxation, surely…'

Eileen swallowed down her usual waspish retort and said instead, as pleasantly as possible, 'Go on then. Just a small one, mind, I'm driving.'

She knew it wasn't worth saying any more, and she could see she was distressing the girl, so she changed the subject. 'The new club's been in all the papers, I bet Phillip is well made-up.'

Christine smiled happily. 'Oh, Mum, it's really fantastic, really upmarket. We were there the other evening. Honestly, it was the best night I've had out in years.'

Eileen could hear the pleasure in her daughter's voice, and was torn between sorrow and relief, because it was a long time since she had seen her daughter so animated. Even if she was manic, at least it was better than when she was desperately sad and almost monosyllabic. Sometimes the girl looked so sad it would break your heart and, as much as her daughter could irritate her, she was still her daughter and, in her own way, she loved her.

'I'm glad you're going out again. You're a lovely-looking girl, and you have a great lifestyle, it'll do you the world of good to get out there and have a bit of a boogie!'

Christine grinned then. 'No one says 'boogie' any more, Mum!'

'I do!'

Eileen took the glass of wine and sipped it cheerfully; maybe she was worrying too much, at least the girl was chatting, trying to be a part of life. Surely that was a step in the right direction? She knew she got on her daughter's nerves; Christine always seemed to think she was criticising her and, at times, she knew she was doing just that. But she genuinely wanted to help her – it was hard seeing your child drowning in her own sorrow and not being able to do anything about it. Not know how to make them better. Sometimes Christine frightened her, especially when the depression was dragging her down, and she didn't get dressed for days on end, or just sat staring at the walls. She hoped these new tablets did the trick; Christine was too young and too beautiful to be plagued like she was.

As Christine downed her wine in record time and poured herself another large glass, Eileen made a conscious effort to bite her tongue. Everyone seemed to drink wine like water these days – half the soap operas on TV had piss-heads who practically lived in the pub, and every drama you watched had people drinking like it was going out of fashion, so maybe she worried about it too much. But, mixed with the pills the doctor prescribed, she was concerned that Christine might be doing herself or her body untold damage.

Sighing gently, she sipped at her drink and listened to her daughter as she talked excitedly about anything and everything that popped into her head, barely pausing for the frequent gulps of wine and completely unaware of how odd her behaviour seemed to those around her. Even the boys couldn't wait to leave her presence, and that alone spoke volumes. Christine was like an accident waiting to happen, and it was just a case of when it would happen, because Eileen knew her daughter couldn't carry on like this for much longer.

Chapter Seventy-One

Ricky Thomas was sitting in his Mercedes alone, watching the sea as the tide came in. He loved the seafront and he knew he would miss being there. Now that his arcades were truly gone the enormity of what he had lost had come crashing in on him. But he was a realist, and he knew that he had to let it go, which is why he was so pleased to get this chance to meet with Phillip Murphy. If he could smooth things over then maybe he could still salvage a little piece of his old life. After all, this was the only thing he had ever known: the games, the machines,