keep her beside him. Until he outs her, there is nothing we can do without bringing his wrath down on our own heads, and none of us want that, do we? Well, do we?!' She was screaming the last words now, her anger and frustration overwhelming her. 'He gives us a good living, and he gives her a good life. Until he allows her to leave him, there is nothing anyone can do. So either grow a spine and go and get her, or shut up about it.'
Ted Booth knew she spoke the truth, and that hurt him more than anything. Because he knew he would never have the guts to go and front up Phillip Murphy – the man terrified him. As he would any normal person. But Ted was scared for his daughter; he could see her drowning in her own mind and it was killing him.
Eileen felt a moment's sympathy for her husband; she understood exactly how he felt, but she also knew it was useless trying to do anything about it. She took what they were given, and she was grateful for it, and she made sure Phillip Murphy knew that.
'Look, Ted, I feel the same as you but, in reality, what can we do? He ain't a person you can cross. This latest should remind you of exactly what we are dealing with here. So just let it go, eh?'
He nodded sadly.
'Like my old mum always said, Ted, be careful what you ask for, because you just might get it. We fought Christine every step of the way with him, and she married him regardless. Now there's no more we can do for her. I wish it was different, but it ain't. He loves the bones of that girl, and she's got his kids, and she's got his name. What we want doesn't matter any more. She's tied to him until one of them dies, because he won't ever let her go without a fight.'
Teddy knew the truth of his wife's words, and hoped God might be good to them and see that maniac Murphy murdered sooner rather than later. It was his constant prayer, and he begged that it would be answered one day.
Chapter Seventy-Six
'Are you sure you can do this, Chris?'
Christine nodded silently, aware that they were all amazed to see her up and dressed, ready for the funeral. Breda went to her sister-in-law and put her arm around her shoulder. 'You look lovely, Christine. Deandra will appreciate you paying your respects.'
Phillip and Declan exchanged glances, and Breda nodded her head almost imperceptibly to let them know she would babysit her sister-in-law.
When the boys walked into the kitchen sad-faced and dressed in their black suits Christine felt her eyes fill with tears. 'Are you sure they should go today, Phil?'
Phillip nodded and said firmly, 'Ricky was a part of their lives, and now they are growing up they need to learn to respect people who have passed away. He thought the world of our lads, and it's fitting they should be there to see him sent on his last journey.'
He sounded so reasonable, so normal. Christine couldn't find an argument against it.
'You all right, Mum?'
This from Timmy, he was the most kind-hearted of her boys. Philly she knew resented her because she wasn't what he termed 'normal', like his friends' mothers. She had heard him telling Timmy he was ashamed of her, and that people at school said mental illness ran in families. His words had cut her to the quick, but she didn't let on she knew what he thought about her. She hoped that one day her sons would understand why she acted as she did.
Timmy came over and gave her a little hug, which touched her. Phillip had to force his elder son to do the same, and that hurt her more than he would ever know. Every day Philly was growing closer to his father, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. Both the boys adored him, and with her being like she was, she knew they both depended on him far too much. It was a vicious circle, and she couldn't tell where it started, let alone where it would all finish.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Deandra was in bits. The funeral had been huge, with people coming from all over the country and even Europe to pay their respects. The funeral car had driven slowly along the seafront at Southend, and the traders had lined the streets, hats in their hands, suited and booted, as they saw off one of their own. It had been very emotional and fitting. Every Face imaginable had turned up for Ricky; the newspapers were loving it, as were the film crews. It was a big event, and even the Mayor had turned out in full regalia to say goodbye to a man who had been well liked, and whose bloody murder had sent shock waves through the tightknit community.
Christine watched as Phillip was feted by everyone. Even Bantry waited in line like a schoolboy to see the man he had given his first job. He had shaken his hand and told him all he wanted to hear, because that was the only way to show the proper respect Phillip Murphy demanded. She watched Breda too as she stood beside her brothers, and accepted all the handshakes as her right.
The funeral proved to Christine just how far her husband had come. He had escorted Deandra into the church and passed her over to Ricky's older daughters, all nice-looking girls, all feeling the loss of their father acutely. They knew that the man who had killed their father was talking to them and condoling them, and they were unable to do anything about it. She watched her two sons being chaffed by all; they were enjoying themselves even though they were at a funeral. Christine knew then that she had lost them, and she wondered at how much pain a person could take before they just lay down and died from it. She saw her mother and father, standing with Veronica and Phillip Senior. She knew her mother was probably loving every minute of it, and that her father was only there for appearances' sake. Phillip would want him there, would want them to look united as a family. She saw all the people who worked for the Murphys, all in black looking suitably sad. She knew that her husband employed literally hundreds of people now, and that they depended on him for their mortgages, their car payments, the bread they ate, and the lives they lived. He was bigger than he had ever dreamed, and he was more or less untouchable now. She saw it all, and she accepted it all. Phillip had won, as she had always known he would, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Back at the house, she talked to people, said all the right things, until eventually she had a chance to catch Deandra alone. She was repairing her make-up in the big bedroom she had shared with her husband and, slipping inside, Christine shut the door behind her. Deandra was watching her warily in the dressing-table mirror; she was already well pissed, and she had also been given a couple of lines of coke by a well-meaning friend.
'I'm so sorry, Deandra, I can't imagine what you must be going through, love.'
Deandra didn't answer her. She was remembering the night of the dinner party; that had been the beginning of the end for her and Ricky, though she had not known that then, of course. But she had put it all together soon enough. What Ricky had told her had given her a good idea of what had occurred. As she looked at Christine Murphy she felt the hate and the anger spiralling up inside her, and the drink and the coke made it all the more raw. 'You're sorry, are you, Christine?'
Christine nodded, knowing what was coming, welcoming it almost.
'You know who killed my Ricky as well as I do, and you know why. Because he wouldn't sell him his arcades. My kids are fatherless because
Christine shook her head as if clearing it and, taking a deep breath, she said honestly, 'I am sorry, Deandra, genuinely sorry. Whatever you might think.'
Turning, she left the room, walked down the stairs and out of the house. Getting into Breda's car, she said to a surprised Jamsie, 'Take me home.'
'Does Phillip know-'
Closing her eyes she bellowed, 'Just fucking take me home! Believe me, he'll thank you for it, because if I go back in there I'll cause a fucking war!'
