The Family

the beach. Like his father before him, he had never thought he would leave. Now his kids were without an inheritance and his life was without any structure; he hadn't understood just to what extent the seaside had been the backbone of his everyday existence. He missed it, missed it all dreadfully. The days seemed to stretch out into nothingness. He sighed sadly, turning up the heat as the autumn chill was already settling in for the winter. There was a deep, damp cold on the seafront, and it took what his father used to laughingly call hardy perennials to cope with it year in and year out. But Ricky had coped, and furthermore he had loved every second of it.

He heard Phillip crunching across the shingle beach towards his car, and opened the passenger door for him. Phillip settled himself down in the leather seat, blowing on his hands for warmth. 'It's fucking freezing out there, mate.'

Ricky laughed softly, then busied himself lighting one of his huge cigars. Phillip took out a small hip flask and took a deep gulp of brandy, before handing the flask to Ricky, who did the same. They sat in silence for a few moments watching an old fishing boat as it sailed in the distance.

'I love this place.'

Phillip coughed softly before answering him. 'I know you do, Rick. But you'll get used to your new life, it's all about how you perceive yourself. That's what my wife's shrink says anyway but, between me and you, he's fucking nuttier than her at times. A right fucking lumpfish he is – all glasses and bad breath. You could imagine him picking his nose, right dirty-looking oik.'

Ricky laughed at his description, and Phillip laughed too. 'Honestly, I love that girl but she worries me, she's not right in the head, Ricky. Do you know what she was doing at five o'clock this morning? Not sleeping like normal people, oh no, she was Hoovering the downstairs of the house. She had already polished the furniture, washed the skirting boards and scrubbed the floors, so she was Hoovering as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Woke the boys up. They think she's slowly losing her mind, and I have to agree with them this time. But the good news is, she's regained her sense of humour and her energy, so that's something, I suppose.'

Ricky didn't know what to say; in all the years he had known this man he had never once spoken out of place about his wife before, and this was talk that was not for the likes of him. This was private, family talk.

'She cut her wrists once,' Phillip continued quietly. 'I've never seen so much blood before in my life. Funny though, the doctor said it always looks more than it really is. She hadn't cut deep enough, see, to do any real damage. Scared my Philly though, he was only ten and he was the one who found her. That was the one time I could have happily topped her meself. But I love her and I always will.'

'My mum suffered with her nerves, Phil. It was my dad's fault – he was a womaniser, they used to joke that he had fucked every woman on the seafront, and their mothers.'

Phillip laughed loudly at Ricky's jocular tone. 'He was a lad, all right. Do you miss him?'

Ricky nodded in the darkness, the light from his cigar giving his face a warm glow. 'Yeah. He was an old cunt at times, but he was still me father.'

'True, Ricky. We can't choose our relatives unfortunately – look at my brother Jamsie.'

They were quiet for a few moments before Phillip broke the silence asking dangerously, 'Who are the people you said thought I had too much?'

Ricky was shocked at the sudden vehemence of the man's words; they were dripping with malice, and he suddenly understood what this meeting was really about. 'That was just talk, Phillip, stupid drunk talk…'

Phillip grinned then, and his face looked almost demonic in the dimness. 'Stupid talk, yes, but there was also more than a grain of truth in it, and you and I both know that. Now, names.'

Ricky felt his heart sink down to his boots. This was not just foolish, it was hopeless.

Phillip opened the hip flask again and, handing it to Ricky, he said menacingly, 'Get that down your Gregory Peck, might loosen your tongue.'

'Look, Phillip, I don't know what this is about, you got what you wanted, you've fucking cleared me out, and you've made sure I am persona non grata to all me old mates. I ain't got a pot to piss in, and I am having to move to Spain to start a new business and a new life. Now I am not going to sit here and gossip with you about every bit of tittle-tattle I have heard spoken over the years, all right?'

Phillip took a sip of the brandy himself before answering, 'Fair enough, that is a very fair statement. I liked the tittle-tattle bit, because that just about sums it all up really. A load of wankers tittle-tattling.' He laughed at his own words. 'So, it looks like we need to get to the main business of the night.'

Ricky felt the cold fingers of fear inside him now. 'And what's that, Phil?' he said with forced calm.

Phillip wasn't fooled by Ricky's bravado, the fear in the car was so real it was almost tangible. It had finally dawned on Ricky that this wasn't a social visit of any kind, it was a payback.

'You see, Ricky, I can't let you go to Spain. You mugged me off big time, and that is something I know I would not be able to live with. I'm a funny fucker like that, my mum says I take things too personally. In fact she thinks it's my fault my wife's stoned out of her nut on pills all the time – that's when she ain't pissed, of course. A lot of people think it's my fault apparently, is that what you thought too? Was that something else for you all to tittle- tattle about, eh, my private life?'

The truth was people had discussed it and at length. Christine had seemed very strange at times over the years, and it was noticed; it was only human nature to discuss it occasionally. Deandra had talked about it many times, and he had to admit a lot of people did, on the quiet.

'You shouldn't be talking about Christine like this to me, it's wrong, Phillip, and you know it.'

Phillip laughed as if he had heard the best joke ever. 'But who better than you to talk to about it? After all, Ricky, you'll be taking this conversation to the grave with you. It ain't like you'll be tittle-tattling to your big mates about it, is it? You'll be dead and gone, won't you?'

Ricky heard the words, and the inevitability in them; he should have known that Phillip wouldn't let him walk away. He thought of Deandra and the kids, waiting for him, not realising that he would never come home again.

'Don't do this, Phil, I'm begging you… I've got two little kids…'

Phillip shrugged. 'You should have thought of them when you made a cunt out of me. You should have thought of them when you were talking about me with your fucking hard-nut mates, laughing at me behind my back. Well, I'll see they get taken care of, no worries on that score, Ricky. I hope you're well insured though. Deandra will need all the poke she can get – it ain't cheap bringing up kids these days, I can tell you.'

For Ricky it was all over – there was nothing he could do now to change anything. He looked out at the sea, and a small part of him was glad that if he was going to die it would be here, in a place he loved, where he had experienced so much happiness. He wouldn't fight, it was pointless; there was no going back now so best to get it over with. He thought of Deandra, and was sorry he would have to leave her at the mercy of the world. He genuinely loved that girl. Tears filled his eyes, and he felt a great sorrow wash over him at what might have been had he made a few different choices in life. You couldn't win when you were up against someone like Phillip Murphy, because they didn't play by any accepted rules. All he could do now was die with dignity, and hope that it would be short and sweet.

The waves were crashing into the shore now, and they both watched, mesmerised, as the sounds gathered momentum, and the darkness swallowed up the last of the light. It was calm now in the car, and they sat side-by- side, each lost in his own thoughts. Phillip was glad that Ricky had taken it so well, and he admired him in a strange way for being so stoic about it all. He had always liked Ricky, and if the man had used his loaf he could have been on to a good earn now, and in a position to see his family grow and thrive. Pride was a terrible affliction, there was no doubt about that.

The knife was long, slim-bladed, and when it slipped between Ricky's ribs, it didn't really hurt that much. It was only when Phillip pulled it out and started to stab Ricky over and over again that the pain and the shock set in.

When he was finished, Phillip sat beside the man, and smoked a cigarette calmly, looking out at the sea, and waiting patiently for Ricky Thomas to bleed out. He was humming to himself the opening bars of 'Gangsta's Paradise', and made a mental note to get the music changed in the arcades.

He was sick to death of hearing that bloody song.