'Stop it, Phillip! Calm down and ask the lad what he was doing.'
Phillip Murphy was like a lunatic now. He hated thieves with a vengeance. He had discovered a weakness in this son of his and it bothered him.
'I know what he was doing, Declan, he was on the fucking rob! He was on his way into my safe!
It took both Jamsie and Declan all their combined strength to hold him back, and it was only seeing his wife's appalled white face at the kitchen door that eventually calmed Phillip down enough to talk with any real lucidity.
'Leave him alone, Phillip. Look at his eye, it's bleeding everywhere!' Christine was kneeling beside her son now; the noise and the blood had sobered her up, and she was trying to stem the bleeding with her dressing gown. Young Philly was letting her do whatever she wanted – he knew inside that his father wouldn't attack him again with her beside him and he was grateful to her at this moment.
'You animal, your own flesh and blood!' Christine was heartbroken, and her voice was loud and angry.
Phillip tried to justify his violent outburst. 'He was trying to rob his own flesh and blood, Chris. Can't any of you see how fucking disgusting that is?' He was looking around him as if he was surrounded by complete idiots.
'What were you doing, Philly? Tell your father the truth.' Christine knew it was the only way out for her son. Phillip held great store by the truth, the hypocritical bastard that he was. Hold your hands up, that's what he had always told the boys. Hold your hands up and take the flak. She hated him more now than ever before.
'Well! Let's hear it!'
Philly looked at his mother before saying brokenly, 'I got a bird pregnant. I needed money for an abortion for her. I would have replaced it, Dad, I swear. But I didn't want you or Mum to know.' He had said all the right things, and he knew it. Phillip was staring down at his son, his eyes screwed up in consternation.
'Not that White bird, Tight Fanny or whatever she calls herself?'
Philly nodded and, pushing his mother's hands away, he saw his father bending down, trying to help her up. Phillip was all gentleness now. His huge hands were underneath her oxters, and she was letting him lift her. It was as if she knew the danger was over. Phillip sat his wife in one of the Carver chairs and, his whole demeanour changing once more, he said softly, 'You all right, Christine?'
She nodded, all the fight gone now that the danger to her son had passed.
Lighting a cigarette, Phillip looked at his brothers and said loudly, 'Fucking imagine impregnating a White. They are like the missing link that lot, her old man still drags his knuckles on the pavement when he walks!'
Jamsie and Declan laughed, but it was laughter tinged with relief. There was blood all over the kitchen floor, Philly looked like he had gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson, and Christine was also covered in claret. It was surreal, because Phillip was acting like nothing had happened. Nothing of importance anyway. He was even chaffing his boy, making a joke about it all.
'You dozy little sod, if you're gonna dip your wick, son, make sure you're wearing something. How much do you need?'
Philly swallowed heavily; he felt sick, and he knew he was probably concussed. He had seen more than a few stars as he had hit the corner of the table. But he answered his father, voice thick with pretend bravado. 'I told her a grand up front and a grand after. That way I could be sure she'd get shot. Money talks, Dad, as you're always telling me.'
Phillip digested what he had been told. 'I'll give you the money, son. It's worth it to get rid of scum like that. But the moral of this story is, tell me when things go pear-shaped and I'll help you, mate. Lie, cheat and steal and I won't.'
Watching on, Declan felt sorry for the lad, but it was Christine that really worried him, she looked awful. Well, worse than usual anyway. Much worse, in fact. She looked like she had been drained of blood completely, her skin was a pasty white and she looked seriously ill, like she had a disease or something.
'Are you sure you're OK, Christine?'
She shook her head and started to heave, loud, dry heaves, and the men instinctively moved a step away from her in case she vomited over them. All except Phillip that is. He knelt in front of her and held her comfortingly until she relaxed then, smiling, he said gently, 'When were you going to tell me, babe?'
She looked into his eyes and she knew then, without a doubt, that he realised she was pregnant. His eyes were soft, yet she could see he was mocking her. He had been waiting to see what she was going to do. As always, he was one step ahead of her, and the knowledge made her finally accept that she would never win. Could never win. Not where he was concerned anyway.
He looked at the cupboard they kept the bin in and winked at her. So he had found the pregnancy tests. If she had not been so frightened and so pissed she would have had the sense to get rid of them properly. It suddenly occurred to her that he probably checked through the rubbish, because he had always somehow controlled her life.
Every last second of it.
The others saw that something was occurring between Phillip and Christine, but none were aware of exactly what it was. Standing back up, Phillip said gaily, 'She's in the club, aren't you, Chris? What a momentous night, a new Murphy.' He looked at his son as he said it. Jamsie was frightened; he couldn't handle Phillip like this, he knew as well as Declan that there was an underlying snide going on, and it felt wrong and it felt dirty.
Declan wondered at a man who could welcome a child with a woman who so obviously needed help with not only her drinking, but her drug-taking and her mental health, yet would offer to play a part in the demise of what was essentially his grandchild. For all Phillip's Catholic beliefs he was quick enough to destroy a child when it suited him. As for poor Christine, she couldn't have another child; she was far too fragile, mentally and physically. He stepped away from the little tableau almost by instinct. There was something wrong here, very wrong, and he was as trapped as the poor mare sitting on the chair.
Philly was in a daze, all he could focus on was the blood. It seemed to be everywhere now. He felt his eyebrow, it was sore, but it wasn't bleeding any more. It was a second or two before he realised it was coming from his mother.
'Mum… Mum! What's wrong?'
The terror in his voice communicated itself to the others in the room and, as Christine groaned in pain and doubled over holding her belly, Phillip said loudly, 'Oh, for fuck's sake! Call an ambulance.' Then kneeling back down he enveloped his wife in his arms, as if protecting her from the world. He was playing the worried husband now and, motioning to Jamsie, he shouted, 'Get Philly cleaned up and out of here before the ambulance arrives.'
Jamsie had been watching it all as if it was a film. Philly was battered and bloodied and in obvious need of stitches, Declan was, for the first time in years, speechless and unable to do anything constructive, and Phillip was acting like the most concerned husband in the world. Jamsie wondered if being brought back into this family was something to be considered lucky after all. In fact, he was beginning to wish he was still the fucking outcast. At least then he would be spared all this shit. But he did as he was asked; where Phillip was concerned you didn't really have much choice in the matter.
Chapter One Hundred and One
'Come here, son.'
Declan heard Veronica's voice, and it broke him out of his reverie. He was still stunned at what had happened in Phillip's kitchen. Seeing all that, and knowing that it was just a normal evening for Phillip had reinforced his worries about his brother and his mental state.
He had come straight to his mother's from the hospital; he was sure that would speak volumes to a shrink. But it was the only place he could think to go, because he needed help – they had to do something about Phillip. If he wouldn't listen to him, then Veronica was his only other hope. Phillip needed her to think he was the perfect son, the perfect provider. And she believed it, to his brother's face anyway; but really, she knew better than any of them just how off the wall Phillip really was. Declan loved him, he loved him dearly, but this time Phillip had
